The Potter Twins and the Philosopher's Stone
by InkedRose
Summary: On that fateful Halloween night when James and Lily Potter are murdered, their infant twins, Harry and Aralynn, are sent to live in separate homes—Aralynn with a magical family, and Harry with an ordinary one. However, when they're both accepted to Hogwarts, and things start to get spooky; the stories of their lives do, as well.
1. The Twins Who Lived

It was a peaceful Halloween night in the countryside of Devon, England until a loud rumbling from the skies woke the grounded men and women in the villages below. They stumbled in an exhausted stupor to peer towards the clouds with their sleep-glazed eyes. However, when nothing was to be seen, and the motor-like growl faded from their ears, they dawdled back to their bedrooms and returned to the conscious-stealing warmth of their beds. The growl came again, but now overhead a different village in a different area of Devon, and the cycle of lethargic feet exiting their homes to discover the source of the noise was repeated.

Elevated many feet in the atmosphere, there was a large, bearded man riding a powder-blue motorcycle through the sky. Both the man and the levitating vehicle were hidden away from the view of men and women below, by the clouds that hung lazily in the sky. The man burst through the puffs, to a clear section in the sky, with no fear of being spotted, as there was nothing below but rolling hills of green. Attached to the motorcycle, there was a small cart being used as a makeshift passenger's seat. Nestled inside of the cart were two blanketed bundles. The large man operating the vehicle leaned over the side to gaze down at two sleeping faces of infant twins. Each infant had tufts of hair poking out from their blankets—one with black hair, and the other with red. Each of these infants, however, sported an identical lightning bolt-shaped scar above their right eyebrow. The man was visibly relieved to see that, unlike the villagers; the infants had not been disrupted by the frightening guttural sound of his motorcycle, but rather lulled by it.

As the vehicle descended towards the ground, it began to sputter and groan in protest, but this did not seem to bother, nor alarm, the driver. The wheels hit against the ground with a great thud that rocked the entire structure. Now safely grounded; the man directed his motorcycle to drive past a wooden sign painted white with an overlying layer of scrawled handwriting, which read 'THE BURROW.' After several moments of driving through farm-like fields and dirt roads, the vehicle squealed to a stop just a few feet from a home that looked unstable. It was grubby and tall with several tilting towers, and it almost looked as if the structure had been manually enlarged from its once original, tiny state. The man stood from the motorcycle, revealing his massive height, and equally as massive width. He sported long, wild, waist-length brown hair and a long, scraggly beard that he could tuck into his belt. His eyes, as they peered through his goggles, were black and beady. He took exactly twelve large steps before reaching the door to the home.

He placed three heavy knocks upon the moaning wood, and moved his goggles to rest upon his head while he awaited an answer. From the opposite side of the door, hands fumbled with the locks, then pried the heavy door open to reveal a short, plump woman with vicious red hair. She looked up to the man, not with trepidation, but with delight. "Hagrid!" her high-pitched voice squeaked. "How lovely it is to see you again. What brings you here on this very late, but lovely night?"

"Good evenin', Molly," greeted Rubeus Hagrid. "A very good evenin' at that," he said as he gave a solemn gaze to the indigo sky, "a very good evenin' full of frightful business. That's why I've come, ya see. Summat terrible has happened."

Molly Weasley furrowed her eyebrows up at him. "What is so frightful that it would bring you to my doorstep at half past midnight?"

Hagrid removed the goggles from his forehead, and fumbled with them nervously. "Dumbledore sent me," he began, then proceeded to lower his voice, "it's Lily an' James, Molly. They've—well—they've been murdered."

 _"Murdered?"_ Molly mocked incredulously. There was a sense of disbelief in her expression until it began to harden and sag with overwhelming sadness and grief. "Oh…" was all she could manage to say.

The bearded giant watched the woman with an equal amount of sadness in his eyes. The plump woman, near to tears, momentarily forgot the morose swelling in her chest when she noticed the cart attached to Hagrid's motorcycle. "What have you got there?"

"That's why Dumbledore sent me," he answered and turned his great body to look longingly at the cart.

Molly gave the cart a confused look before her expression was shrouded with shock and fear. "Lily and James had twins!" she cried. "Are they… gone, too?"

Hagrid shook his head several times. "That's why I've come. You-Know-Who tried to kill 'em, as well, but summat strange happened. When he tried to kill 'em, they ended up jus' fine. Lost all his power, though, yes he did. The kids were left with these funky lookin' cuts on their foreheads. I'm thinkin' they'll scar up real nice."

"How can that be?" the woman questioned, looking appalled, yet relieved, "no one has ever survived the Killing Curse."

"I know it, and Dumbledore does, too, but he can't seem ter wrap his head 'round it. Lily an' James left a note sayin' if anythin' were ter happen, that you an' Arthur be contacted. 'Suppose they knew somethin' was comin'… Dumbledore followed their note, and that's why I'm here. He wants you to take one of 'em in as your own."

"One of them," Molly reiterated. "Why would Dumbledore ever want them separated?"

"Can't say for meself, but I know he wants 'em separated. They're gonna be famous, we all know it, and he doesn't want 'em 'round that life. He thinks it's best if they grow up not knowin' each other, and not knowin' about what happened tonight!" Hagrid answered, "but I know that's what he's doin' and we gotta trust his judgment."

"Yes, of course," Molly agreed quietly. "What will happen to the other? Every man, woman, and child in our world will know their names."

"One of 'em is goin' ter live with their aunt and uncle. The Dursleys—they're Muggles. That'll keep 'em nice and private, yes it will," Hagrid said as each corner of his beard perked up into a smile. "Whichever one yeh take in will need more protection. Dumbledore knows that yeh'll do a fine job."

"I'm so grateful for Albus's faith in me," Molly said to herself, before looking to Hagrid. "I'll gladly take one of them in, of course. I would take them both, if I could. What are their names?"

"Harry an' Aralynn," he said. "I'll get 'em both for yeh. You can choose whichever one yeh want," he said. With that, Rubeus Hagrid took twelve large strides back to the motorcycle, scooped both bundles of blankets into his arms, before returning to Molly at a more leisurely pace. He held out each of his arms to her to show her the children. "This one's Harry," he said and gestured to the blue and green bundle with his nose. "An' this one's Aralynn," he said as he gestured to the red and pink bundle. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Absolutely," said Molly, breathless. "They look so much like Lily and James."

"Harry looks like James, an' Aralynn looks like Lily. The red hair just brings it all together."

The woman let out a heavy sigh. "As much as I want to take them both, I will take Aralynn. If Dumbledore wishes for me to take one of them in as my own, it would be best to take her in. She could easily pass off as a Weasley."

Hagrid nodded a few times. "I s'pose I'll be takin' this little tyke here on down to Surrey," he said and smiled over to Molly. "I'll be seein' yeh soon, Aralynn," he told the baby, and gazed down at the red and pink bundle of blankets. The giant sniffled as tears rolled down his beard. "Be a good little girl."

The short and plump woman smiled up at the giant for a moment. "You'll see her in no time, I promise," she reassured and brushed some of her curly, red hair behind her ears. "You can always come around for tea, if you'd like, but if you want to remain distant; you'll be reunited when she starts her first year at Hogwarts."

"Best of luck to yeh both," said the man as he nodded and strode back over to his motorcycle.

"Have a good evening, Hagrid!" Molly called and waved him off as she backed into the Burrow and shut the door behind her. Soon enough, the roaring from the engine of Hagrid's motorcycle would once again wake the villagers.

Molly gently rocked the sleeping infant in her arms as she looked down at her with happiness glittering in her eyes. "You're such a pretty little thing," she said to her in a soft voice.

Footsteps began to descend the several flights of the stairs towering up into the Burrow. A tall, somewhat thin man with balding hair came down and looked at Molly before arching a red eyebrow at the bundle of blankets in her arms. "What's going on, Molly?" he asked.

"Hagrid stopped by," she answered, seeming mesmerized by the baby.

"From Hogwarts?" Arthur Weasley questioned as he peered out the window of the house. "What brought him here so late, and in the middle of the school year?"

Suddenly, Molly looked solemn. "Lily and James Potter are dead," she said and turned her head to look at him. "Dumbledore wanted us to take in one of their twins. I would have taken in both, if I could."

"You never go against the word of Albus Dumbledore," Arthur said and stood by Molly to look down at the baby, smiling sheepishly. "You took in their daughter. What is her name?" he asked as his fingers twirled around her tufts of red hair.

"Aralynn," Molly answered before she paused. "I remember Lily telling me about the twins. Harry's middle name is James, and Aralynn's is Nicole."

"It seems that she is going to fit in well with our family," Arthur said with a smile. "Her red hair works well with the rest of us."

"Oh, yes, of course it does," Molly agreed.

"We will have to tell Charlie, Bill, and Percy. Fred and George are still too small to understand," he said as his attention was drawn to the stairwell by the cries of the newborn Ginevra Weasley.

Molly handed Aralynn to Arthur and went up the stairs as quickly as her legs would allow. "Of course Ronald and Ginny are never going to figure out the difference," he said down to the sleeping bundle with a smile on his face. "Not until we're ready. I will do everything I can to keep you safe, Aralynn. I hope you realize that someday."

From the middle section of the Burrow, Molly's soothing voice could be heard as she tried to coax Ginny back into sleep. Arthur began to move up the stairs cautiously with the bundle in his arms. "I will protect you from the fame, and anyone who dares to hurt you."

Molly and Arthur met one another outside of Ginny's room and together they looked down at the baby. "Is Ginny alright?" he asked.

"Yes, she is. Had a nightmare, I presume, but I got her to go back to sleep rather easily. Where will Aralynn sleep?"

"She can sleep in Ron's room with him. They'll have to be passed off as twins. I'll get her one of Fred and George's old cribs," Arthur said and he laid the baby down in Molly's arms, and then disappeared down the stairs.

The plump woman traveled up several more flights of stairs, soon reaching the top of the Burrow, and entered a very orange room plastered with posters of the Quidditch team known as the 'Chudley Cannons'. In a crib that was painted white, lay an infant boy with his little blankets pulled up to the bottom of his ears, with the top of his head with his fuzzy red hair sticking out. Molly smiled over to the sleeping boy as she rocked Aralynn in her arms.

Arthur soon came into Ronald's bedroom with an old crib and mattress to fit. He set them down, set the mattress firmly along the structure, then took the sleeping girl from his wife's arms. He lay her down on the mattress, and adjusted her blanket to be wrapped around her more tightly.

Together, Molly and Arthur Weasley gaped down at the eighth addition to the Weasley children. "Do you think we can shield her from the fame?" the woman asked her husband.

"I do," Arthur answered and brushed his fingertips along the infant's cheek. "She will one day discover what is lying ahead of her."

On that fateful night, Aralynn Nicole Potter became Aralynn Nicole Weasley, and her life transformed forever. No one could tell what was going to become of the Twins Who Lived. The struggles, the pain, the love, and sacrifice lying ahead of them, to be hushed away until the time came for the truth to be revealed.


	2. Nine Years Later

When the early-morning sunlight streamed through the open windows, it illuminated the orange room to look as though it had erupted in flames. A stray beam from the glimmering sun fell upon a young girl's face, causing her eyelids to flutter open, and squint at the shock of the blinding glow. She turned her back to the windows before she sat up and rubbed tired eyes. She pushed her red hair from her face and looked around the room. In a sudden moment, her expression brightened. She leaped from her bed, and ran to an identical one across the room. The girl flung herself into the bed with a sleeping lump, climbed on top of it, and began shaking its structure with vicious excitement. "Ronald!" she cried as she tried to jolt him awake. "Ronald, wake up!"

However, he gave her an unconscious grunt of protest and tugged his blanket to cover his red-haired head. The girl climbed off of him with a huff, and sat on her own bed to deliberate her next move. She rubbed her chin, as though she were a thoughtful philosopher with a beard. A mischievous grin spread across her face, and she stood to creep to the opposite bed. She leaned down, moving her lips directly next to his ear, took a large breath inwards, and screamed: "RONALD, WAKE UP! THE CHUDLEY CANNONS ARE HERE!"

Ronald Weasley snapped upward in his bed with eyes open, crazed, and red from sleep. He looked back and forth frantically. "Where?" he demanded, "I need to get Galvin Gudgeon's autograph!"

When he realized that what forced him awake was an entire fabrication, he shot a smug expression to the culprit behind the fabrication itself. "Thanks a lot, Aralynn," he grumbled. "I really thought Galvin Gudgeon was here."

Aralynn gave an innocent smile, and said, "if not Gudgeon, who else?"

"Dragomir Gorgovitch," Ron yawned. "He holds the record for most Quaffle drops in a season. It may not be a good record, but it's a record."

"Is that your dream job, then? Ronald Weasley: Chudley Cannon Chaser, and notorious Quaffle-dropper!"

Ron gave her a dark look and pushed her over on the bed. "Why did you wake me up? I was having a very nice dream, and now my chances of ever kissing Indira Choudry are gone."

" _Indira Choudry_?" Aralynn gasped dramatically, "but what would _Galvin_ say?"

"Shut up," the boy grumbled in response before curling up under his blanket again, placing one of his pillows over his head. "Back to sleep I go."

"No!" Aralynn shouted, jumping on top of her brother. "You have to wake up, and stay awake, Ron! It's absolutely crucial!"

He groaned for a long time before pushing Aralynn off of him to sit up again. "Why?" he asked, "who died? I want to go back to sleep! I don't even know what time it is!"

"It's nine o'clock," she said, "and no one died," she added with a shove, "but some _were_ born today."

Ron gave her a dumbfounded look for a long while before his expression slowly shifted with the realization. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "That's right, it's our birthday—happy birthday, Aralynn!"

"And to you, good sir," she responded in a scholarly tone.

"You're _old_."

"I am not!"

"Old woman," Ron grinned.

"If I'm old, then what are you?" she hissed, pushing him playfully. "We're twins, Ronald. If I'm old, you're old, too."

"I am flowering with youth!" he replied as he crawled out of his bed. He dropped to his knees and crawled under the bed, rummaging through items beneath the frame; making it obvious that he was looking for something.

Aralynn leaned over the side of the bed, watching his feet and legs shift around as he dug through the mess. "Uh, Ron?" she questioned, "what're you doing?"

"Looking for something," his muffled voice responded.

"Looking for what?"

"Something…"

"Which is what?"

"This," Ron replied as he scooted out from underneath the bed. In his hands, there was a lengthy leather-bound book. "It's your birthday present. I thought you might like it."

"What is it?" she asked, taking the book within her arms.

"Memories," he told her.

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up to him before looking back down to the book. She ran her fingers over the bindings, and pulled the front cover away from the first page. When she looked down, the page revealed a photograph of herself as an infant, asleep in her crib. She turned the page, seeing another photograph of herself as an infant, only this time, she and Ron were lying together on a plaid blanket outside of the Burrow with their mother sitting directly next to them. The third page shared a photograph of their second birthday, where Ron is sitting in a handcrafted highchair with frosting smeared along his face. Aralynn, in the photograph, is in an identical highchair, taking some of the cake from Ron's plate. As she continued to flip through the pages, she watched a lane of memories pass by. This book was documentation of her adventures throughout the years. The last page, before the rest of the book was left blank, was a moving photograph. The picture was of Aralynn and her father dancing together at Christmas. She was wearing a navy-blue dress with a white sash tied in a bow around her waist, white flats, and a white headband. Aralynn smiled down at the photograph and touched the page admiringly. Even though she received very few presents that year, it was one of the best.

Aralynn looked up to Ron and gave him a thankful smile. "I love this," she told him as she leaned over to hug him tightly. "Now I can add to it throughout our years at Hogwarts. I'm never going to let this go."

"I'm glad you like it," Ron replied as his ears reddened with embarrassment. "It's not lame, is it?"

"No," she smiled, "no, it's absolutely wonderful. I have a present for you, too."

Before either of them could say anything more, their mother began to holler from the base of the home, up several flights of stairs in their abnormally tall house. "Ron; Aralynn!" she called, "come down for breakfast, please!"

Aralynn stood in excitement. "I'll give you your present after breakfast," she said and grabbed her brother's hand, lifting him to his feet, and tugged him down the stairs. They trampled down together, and then plowed into the kitchen, where their other siblings were sitting around the table, which was stockpiled with various breakfast foods.

"Happy birthday, darlings," Molly Weasley said, and walked over to cup her children's cheeks within her palms. "Eleven years old. It's so hard to believe! I remember when you were both little babies—as if it were just yesterday."

"We haven't grown too much, have we?" Aralynn asked.

"Far too much!" she exclaimed, sniffing away the tears forming in her eyes. "You were so young, and so sweet, and now you're all grown up!"

"Not quite yet," she responded, giving her mother a small smile. "Even when I'm considered an adult, I'm _always_ going to be your little girl, Mum, and Ron will be your little boy—even if he won't admit it. We would never want it to be any other way."

"Don't bring me into this," Ron grumbled at her quietly.

"It's _our_ birthday, Ronald. You're included in everything."

"You're such an angel," Molly said, kissing the top of Aralynn's head.

Instants later, a loud explosion-like noise rang from the table, and when Molly looked over to inspect the source of the noise, she saw her elder twin sons, Fred and George, eating peacefully, though their faces blackened from said explosion. "You two," she pointed her index finger, "are not angels."

"Of course we are!" Fred exclaimed.

"Can't you see the halos?" George asked.

"We're heaven-sent!" they said in unison.

"If you two are heaven-sent, then heaven is one _hell_ of a place," she said in a hard tone, though there was no sincerity to her words. Molly Weasley loved her sons, as mischievous and aggravating as they were.

"Thank you!" Fred and George both beamed.

Aralynn moved to take her seat at the table, picking at the eggs on her plate with her fork. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, and it was already the perfect birthday for her. She didn't need a cake, or presents, or anything ridiculously extravagant. All she needed was to be surrounded by her happy, smiling, and dysfunctional family.

The door nearest to the table opened; and a tall, redheaded man with a pointed brown hat upon his head walked into the house with a few items under his arm. "'Morning, Weasleys!" he called out to all of them.

"'Morning, Dad!" all of the children responded.

"Good morning, dear," Molly greeted her husband, giving him a simple kiss on the cheek before she returned to cleaning dishes.

Arthur ambled over to Aralynn, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, then went to Ron with a second kiss to the head. "Happy birthday, Little Reds," he said, and took his place as the head of the table, "finally eleven years old, and ready to attend Hogwarts."

Ron's ears went hot with embarrassment, mumbling a quiet 'thank you' to their father. Aralynn giggled behind her hand while he sunk into his seat.

"Thank you, Dad," she told him with an unchangeable smile. She loved when her father referred to her by her longtime nickname of 'Little Red'. Even though each of the family members was red of hair, Aralynn often received various nicknames—as did they all.

Arthur Weasley leaned over the table and offered an envelope to the girl and an envelope to the boy. They took them from his hand, opening them, and looked at the scratchy handwriting on the front addressed to them. Aralynn flipped her envelope around to see that the stamp was a dragon.

"It's from Charlie!" she exclaimed.

She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment to reveal more scratchy handwriting. All of the words were addressed to her, which, for some reason, made her feel special.

* * *

' _Dear Fire Head,_

 _Happy birthday—I hope it's exciting for you to turn eleven today. I expect that you'll be receiving your acceptance letter to Hogwarts shortly. Now that you're eleven, you're officially old enough to attend the school. Hogwarts was a wonderful time for me, and I hope it's equally as wonderful for you. It's the doorway between adolescence and adulthood, where you discover your purpose, and who you are. Though, I think you may already know your purpose in life. You have a conscious head on your shoulders, and I know you'll be okay, no matter where life takes you._

 _Mum and I have been writing back and forth, discussing what your life at Hogwarts will be like. She's insistent that you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor. She says it's a Weasley Family tradition, but I can't say I agree. You're brave, yes, that's undeniable, but you're also intelligent and witty, loyal and hardworking, but also ambitious and cunning. You're a perfect mixture of all the houses, but I could see you as a fine Slytherin. When I told Mum this; she was absolutely livid. She insisted that you'd never be sorted into a house of such evil. Aralynn, always remember that Slytherin is not an evil house. It has a bad reputation because of the members who have shuffled through there—they have taken the teachings of Salazar Slytherin, and twisted them into something dark and demented. Slytherin is the House of Evil People, but not the House of Evil. Remember that, will you? There have been plenty of good people to come from Slytherin, and I'm sure you'll meet them, or at least hear of them, one day._

 _I wanted to come home for your and Ron's birthday, but we recently got a new dragon, and he's particularly disobedient. Romania has been such an interesting place to live, and I'm sure you'll love it when you can come to visit. Mum and Dad have been planning to come and see me, but as you know, money is tight. They're going to do what they can, when they can. You'll love the dragons, and I can't wait to see you, Fire Head. For your birthday, if I've enchanted three galleons to cling to the bottom of this letter. Spend them on something nice for yourself, will you?_

 _I hope to see you soon, Aralynn. I miss you._

 _Love always,_

 _The Dragon Tamer._ '

* * *

Aralynn looked down to the letter and detached the three galleons Charlie gifted her. She studied them in her palm, and then looked up to her father. "He sent me three galleons. He wants me to spend them on something nice for myself, but I think they should go towards whatever supplies we will need from Diagon Alley," she said, offering them to Arthur.

"You ought to take his advice, Little Red," he said, but took the coins regardless. "You could always buy a pet with them."

"Supplies for Hogwarts are more important," she insisted. "If there's anything left over, I'll use that to buy something for myself—a pet, or maybe an ice cream from Florean Fortescue's."

"That's very humble of you," Molly said. Her expression told everyone that she was very proud of herself for how she raised her children.

"You could get an owl!" Ron exclaimed. "You should get an owl. I'll be stuck with Percy's hand-me-down rat."

"Scabbers, thank you very much, is a fine rat," Percy scolded. "He's been in the family for years, and you should be grateful I gave him to you, at all."

"Oh, _yeah_ ," Ron said sarcastically, " _thanks_."

Percy opened his mouth to retaliate, but Molly intervened to set down a birthday cake. "You two quit your bickering. It's a very special birthday."

"Happy birthday to you both," Percy said, then placed his nose back into the Daily Prophet newspaper he had been reading in silence.

"Thank you, Percy," Aralynn and Ron responded simultaneously.

Aralynn then smiled up to her mother. "You didn't have to bake a cake, Mum."

"Why are you trying to eat our birthday, Aralynn?" Ron hissed, lightly kicking her from under the table; which rightly earned him a scowl from his sister.

"Of course, I did!" Molly squawked, as though outraged. "You have to have a cake on your birthday! A birthday is never complete without a birthday cake."

"Oh, alright," Aralynn laughed.

Molly placed eleven candles into the cake and lit each of them. "Go on," she encouraged, "blow them out, you two—and make a wish!"

Aralynn took Ron's hand as they turned their attention to their birthday cake, and looked between each of the candles' flames. They took a deep breath inward, then blew all of them out in one try. As their mother had encouraged them to do, Aralynn made a wish—and she hoped Ron did, as well. She wished for happiness, health, and safe passage to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	3. A Little Piece of Heaven

Birthday celebrations for Ronald and Aralynn Weasley were held throughout the day. From the consumption of cake—the opening of presents—to dancing while old tunes played on the radio. For Aralynn, it was a day of absolute perfection. When the celebratory mood began to fade away, and it grew later in the day, Ron and Aralynn went for a walk throughout the land owned by the Weasley family. They traveled around together, side-by-side, enjoying the early-spring breeze. When they reached their favorite spot—a small, circular clearing in the tall grass—Aralynn began searching through her pockets. She pulled out a small, crinkled photograph and sat beside her brother. "For you," she said, reaching her arm out to offer it to him. "It's your birthday present—it's nothing as special as the scrapbook you arranged for me, but I think it means something—to both of us."

Ronald Weasley took the photograph into his own hand. It was a plain, nonmoving photograph of the two of them. Their backs were turned to the camera, and they were holding hands. It was taken a few years prior to the current day. They had been walking through the tall grass—it was the day they found the spot they were currently sitting in. He looked to his twin sister with a large smile upon his freckled face. "It's brilliant," he told her. "I almost forgot about it. Where did you find it?"

"I've had it all this time," Aralynn replied, scooting closer to him so that she could look down to the photograph, as well. "After Dad took the picture, I asked if I could keep it. I've had it hidden away in one of my drawers. I've always intended to give it to you for one of our birthdays, but I had difficulties separating from it for a long time. I guess, since eleven is such an important age for us both, I decided it was time to part ways with it."

"Thank you," he said softly, sentimentally. "It's great."

"I think it really tells the tale of our closeness," she commented. She took her index finger and circled their bodies in the photograph. "Do you see?" she inquired as her voice grew softer. "We're so close that our shoulders are nearly touching. Our hands are clasped together, and we're walking—just walking. It tells a story, only there aren't words to explain it. There's just a connection—a physical connection that you can just _see_."

"Yeah," Ron nodded thoughtfully. "I see it."

"It meant a lot to me," she told him, "so I figured it would mean a lot to you, too."

"You were right," he agreed, offering her a smile. "I'll keep it with me always."

Aralynn gave her brother a large smile and reached over to wrap her arms around him tightly. He returned the grasp, and the two sat together—in a long embrace.

When they broke away, they laid back in the grass, looking up to the clear blue sky overhead. Aralynn studied its vastness and wondered if it ever ended. She shuffled through the small bag she had been carrying with her and brought out a camera. She stretched her arms in front of her and scooted closer to Ron, touching her head to his. "Another photograph for my book," she said.

They both smiled at the lens, and groaned after the flash had gone off. Once the photograph developed, Aralynn added it to the first blank page in her book. She watched it for a while, smiling to herself. She wondered if Fred and George were as close and Ron and herself—after all, they were both sets of twins.

Once the sun began to melt behind the trees, Ron and Aralynn ventured back to their home. The entire family was gathered together in the living room, reminiscing about the past. The youngest set of twins joined them. Ron sat between Fred and George on the couch, and Aralynn sat upon George's feet. She listened closely as Molly shared a story about her younger sister. As told by Molly, when Ginny was a mere toddler; she performed a bit of accidental magic towards Percy, which resulted in one of his cardigans turning a bright, fluorescent pink instead of its original forest green. Percy, who was sitting in an armchair, looked annoyed at the memory—and Ginny, who was sitting on the floor beside her mother's chair, was flushed with embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to!" Ginny exclaimed. "I hardly remember it."

"I haven't forgotten," Percy stated, snubbing his nose at her.

"Oh, Percy," Molly groaned, exasperated. "It's all in good fun, dear. It was years ago—you need to lighten up.

"That was my favorite cardigan, Mum. I miss it greatly."

"Oh, it's not as if it would fit you anymore," said Mrs. Weasley with a wave of her hand. "Anyhow—let's continue to the memories. Arthur, have you one to share?"

"A fair few," Mr. Weasley agreed with a nod of his head. "Ah, I have a _brilliant_ one," he began. "When Ron and Aralynn were younger—much younger—about four, or five, they were playing out in the snow. It was Christmas, you see—and your mother had them both dressed very nicely, as she likes you all to be on the holidays. Well, I suppose they had found a patch of dirt exposed in the snow. Only—it wasn't dirt, it was mud. Of course, it had been dampened by the wetness. When your mother called them inside; they walked in giggling. We hadn't noticed them come inside, so when we turned around, Mum threw the pudding from her hands. Ron and Aralynn were _completely_ coated in mud. Their little outfits had been destroyed entirely, and Mum was furious. For the rest of the night, she kept mumbling to herself about how troublesome they were. She never was able to get the stains out."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed. "Yes, I remember that. It was a disaster—you two were _filthy!_ The whole house was a mess for days—and you tracked mud _all_ over the carpets!"

Aralynn covered her mouth with her hands as she tried to contain her laughter. Ron had a small smirk on his face as well, only it was turned towards his lap so that their mother wouldn't notice. Molly, however, did notice. When she did, she burst into a loud tangent. "It was _not_ funny, you two! I spent _so_ much time cleaning the mess you _both_ made!"

"I thought you said these memories were all in good fun, Mum," reiterated Ronald.

"Oh, don't you get started with me, young man!" she huffed while waving her finger at the boy.

Ron's ears reddened—as they often did—and he sunk into the couch. Aralynn smiled between her mother and brother, still choking back the laughter.

"Anyhow," Molly dismissed. "I did have a bit of a laugh."

"Knowing Dad, he probably photographed it," said Aralynn.

"I did!" Arthur assured. "It's in one of our albums. Terribly funny, that photograph."

"It was _infuriating!_ " Molly shrilled.

The room fell into silence after Mrs. Weasley's statement. Nevertheless, a few moments later, Aralynn's giggling escaped her throat. Her laughter created an outburst of it—the entire Weasley family erupted with it. The house swelled with joyful, roaring laughter from top to bottom.

When their tittering dulled down, Molly lifted herself from the chair and looked to the clock mantled upon the wall. "Off to bed, children," she ordered. "It's very late."

Hugs and 'goodnights' were exchanged between the members of the Weasley family. They then scuffled up the stairs and into their bedrooms. Ron and Aralynn entered their bright-orange lodgings and crawled into their beds.

Aralynn shifted onto her back, looking up to the ceiling with her scrapbook hugged tightly to her chest. She sighed contently and she watched the shadows of leaves shifting from the trees outside reflected onto her ceiling by the moonlight. She smiled cheerfully as she ran her fingers gingerly along the leather of the book. "This has been the best birthday anyone could wish for," she whispered to herself.

After so long of rethinking the events of the day and night, Aralynn turned onto her side and allowed slumber to wash over her. She dreamed of Hogwarts and the adventures lying before her.


	4. Robes and Snakes

Now that it was the middle of August, it was time for the Weasleys to gather what money they could find and travel to Diagon Alley, where they would be getting supplies for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts School and Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Burrow was chaotic as the Weasley family members ran back and forth, trying to find as many coins as they possibly could. Arthur ran up and down the stairs, turning over mattresses and scavenging through drawers. Molly emptied every single pot she could. Fred and George dug holes near the chicken coop, where they had been burying coins of different value throughout the entire summer. Percy holed himself in his bedroom, where he counted the money he had been saving throughout his previous school year, and the summer. Ginevra, who was not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, helped her family scour every item that was able to be closed. Ron and Aralynn removed cushions from the couch, and when a shimmer was seen in the sunlight, Aralynn shoved her hand between the wires of the couch and scooped a handful of clanging coins into her palm. "I found thirteen knuts and six sickles!" she exclaimed, running up three flights of stairs before she slammed into her father. "I found thirteen knuts and six sickles," she repeated and dropped the coins into the pouch her father had been carrying around while searching for money.

"Good job, Little Red!" Arthur beamed, and then turned to continue his frantic search.

Aralynn jogged back down all of the stairs she had traveled up, to rejoin Ron near the couch. "Have you found anything yet?" she asked, glancing to him. "We've done a decent job already, but it's not nearly enough for everything we're going to need."

Ron threw one of the couch cushions down in frustration. "No!" he roared, "no, I haven't found a single thing! Why don't you leave me alone about it?"

Aralynn blinked at her brother in response before knitting her eyebrows together. "Ron, what's wrong with you?" she inquired, "why are you acting like this?"

The boy threw himself down on the couch in exasperation. He rubbed at his eyes irritably—then looked up to her. "It's not fair that you're allowed to get new things, but mostly everything I have is secondhand. I want new stuff, too."

Aralynn frowned, sitting next to him. "I would get secondhand stuff, too, but I'm the eldest girl. Mum and Dad can't really give me George's old robes, and you've already gotten their books."

"It's not fair," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aralynn pressed her lips together briefly then wrapped an arm around her twin's shoulders. "When we're in Diagon Alley, I'll buy you something with the galleons Charlie gave me," she reassured.

Though Ron looked defiant to give in to her talk, he glanced to her. "You promise?" he asked quietly.

"I promise," she agreed.

Ron sighed in defeat with a nod. "Alright," he agreed.

Aralynn gave him a smile and nudged him playfully. "Come on," she coaxed, "we should be leaving soon."

Having been bested by his sister, Ronald Weasley stood from the couch and walked into the living room with her, but not without giving her a gentle shove. They stood near the fireplace and watched their family bustle about. Fred and George returned to the house, their hands and knees covered with dirt, but with several bronze coins within their fingers. "We found a few knuts!" they chimed together. "Think it'll help?"

"It always helps," Molly told her sons as she took the coins within her own hands, and dumped them into the sack when Arthur opened it for her. "When will you be leaving?" she asked him.

"In a moment," he answered, knotting the sack towards the opening to tuck into his pocket.

"Can't I come with you, Daddy?" the young Ginny asked. "I want to see Diagon Alley!"

"No, no," he denied. "You're going to stay with your mother and help her around the house. We'll be back shortly."

Ginny stomped her foot angrily. "I want to go to Diagon Alley!"

"You will, Ginny," Arthur replied, "next year, when you're accepted."

"This isn't fair!"

"Oh, hush, dear," Molly cooed as she redirected Ginny to the kitchen. "Will you be taking the Floo Network?"

"Quickest way," Arthur nodded.

His wife paused and fished through the apron tied around her torso. She pulled out eight sickles, offering them to him. "We'll need more after this," she said, "get eight scoops, will you?"

"Of course," her husband agreed as he took the coins from her palm. He then leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "Best be off," he said, gathering his children around the fireplace, "all right, Percy, you first."

Percy nodded and stepped into the fireplace. When his mother held out a flower pot for him, he reached into it and gathered a fistful of silvery powder. The family watched as he held himself proudly, and enunciated, "Diagon Alley!" He threw the powder down and was sent away in a flare of brilliant green flames. Once the flames cleared away, the fireplace stood empty.

Fred—then George—was the next to use the Floo Network to travel to Diagon Alley. When they disappeared in the same green flames, Arthur went through to wait for Ron and Aralynn on the other side. Aralynn waved to Ron with a smile on her face as he disappeared. She then stepped into the fireplace herself. Molly offered her the flower pot, and Aralynn took the last of the powder in her right palm. "Diagon Alley," she said as she threw the powder down to the wood. The flames rose and sucked her away. She traveled through time and space as a blob coalescing with the atmosphere until she regenerated in full, solid form. She took a step forward to see her father and brothers waiting for her. They smiled at her successful transfer.

"Made it through in one piece, huh?" George taunted.

"Thought we might see an arm land before the rest of you," Fred added.

"Not to worry, boys," she grinned triumphantly. "I'm the master."

"Yes master!" they cried together as they began bowing before her with their arms outstretched. Aralynn laughed, pulled her brothers to their feet, and followed behind her father when he began to head for the shops of Diagon Alley.

Though she had heard a lot of different things about it, Aralynn had never been to the Alley, herself. She had always dreamed of it, of course—most magical children do. Diagon Alley was rumored to be beautiful and funky and interesting, and she wanted to witness, firsthand, all that was beautiful and funky and interesting about it. Now that it was her time, and she was old enough to attend the supply runs, she could feel excitement coursing through her veins. This year was directed around her, and that—in itself—was exciting. Never mind the new things she would be receiving; all she could think about were the shops, the people, and the merchandise.

They stepped into the cobblestone alley, and Aralynn's face lit up with awe at the beauty of the area. There were shops lining each side of the alley of all different colors; blues and reds and greens and golds. It was all very mesmerizing for the first-time eyes—even for the returning ones. As they weaved their way between shops, Aralynn stopped to study several items concealed behind different shop windows. There were jars full of animal organs, vials filled to the brim with questionably colored liquids, showcased wands and robes, unsteady stacks of books, and other shimmering trinkets that she would have loved to inspect, and even buy, regardless of whether or not she knew what it was.

"Keep up, Aralynn!" Arthur shouted from the head of the group.

Aralynn looked in her father's direction and jogged to catch up with the rest of them. As much as she wished she could stop and stare and gawk; she knew there was a limited amount of time they had, especially before their start date at Hogwarts. The first of September was in two or so weeks, and it was absolutely vital that they get the supplies they needed before traveling to Platform 9 and ¾ to board the Hogwarts Express. However, she studied as much as she could along their walk down the cobblestone roads. "Dad?" she inquired, "where are we going?"

"Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions," he answered. "It's best we get you fitted before going anywhere else. That will be the longest of our trip, and it's important to see that through before shopping for your books and such."

Aralynn nodded in understanding and traveled to stand next to Ron. She gave him a small nudge with her elbow and displayed a wide grin from ear to ear. "Isn't this exciting?" she asked him.

"Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically, "absolutely _brilliant_."

"Are you still irritated from earlier?" she wondered with furrowed eyebrows. "I told you I would buy you something. Ron, please don't be like this."

" _I'm fine_ ," he replied with a tone that was a little too hard.

Aralynn sighed in defeat and ambled away from him to give him distance. When they stopped in front of an aged shop, that of which was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Arthur turned to the older half of his children and told them they were allowed to wander Diagon Alley by themselves, so long as they behaved. When Fred and George halfheartedly agreed, Arthur Weasley arranged for the eldest of the current group, Percy, to be their designated 'babysitter' for all intents and purposes. Percy gladly agreed, and walked off with the twins, who were huffing and puffing with mutters of feeling betrayed by their father.

"Come on, children," he said to Ron and Aralynn when he turned to them. Arthur escorted the youngest twins inside of the shop and he glanced back and forth. "Madam Malkin?" he called out, "it's Arthur Weasley, and I've come to get my daughter fitted for her Hogwarts robes!"

"Arthur?" said a high-pitched voice. From the back room, a stout and wide body came bustling toward the register, where the three Weasleys stood. "Arthur Weasley, you are a sight for sore eyes! It's been such a long time since we last met!"

"Indeed, it has," he nodded with a smile. He looked to his children and pulled Aralynn to stand in front of him, with his hands placed upon her shoulders. "Madam Malkin, this is my daughter, Aralynn. She's going to be a first-year at Hogwarts in September, and we don't have any girls' robes to fit her, so we've come to the finest sewing establishment in all of England!"

"Oh, Arthur, you flatter me!" the small woman exclaimed with flushed cheeks. She turned her attention to young Aralynn, looking her over with an unfaltering smile. "Oh, you're absolutely gorgeous! Not to worry, darling, we'll have new robes fitted for you in a jiff!"

Aralynn gave the friendly woman a small smile, and followed behind her when she started to lead her into the back room; where all of her measuring and sewing was done. The silver-haired woman came to a stop and gestured to a small platform for Aralynn to stand on. "It'll make you taller," she said to Aralynn, who was already quite a bit taller than Madam Malkin herself. "It'll make it easier for me to hem the bottom!"

Aralynn obediently stepped onto the platform, as instructed. Madam Malkin gave her another cheerful smile before disappearing into a curtain-protected room. When she returned, she had black cloth, needles, and black thread in her hands. Aralynn watched as she pulled out her wand and muttered something under her breath and began to levitate. The woman floated upward and helped Aralynn put the robe on her body. Afterward, she immediately began pinning the cloth back to fit her shape.

"Are you their only girl?" Madam Malkin asked, if only to make conversation.

"I'm the eldest," Aralynn answered. "Ginny is my sister. She's the youngest in our family."

"Are you excited to be starting Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Aralynn replied with a small smile. "I've heard it's wonderful."

"Oh, yes, it is," the woman responded. "Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster. He's a generous and kind man."

"I've heard that," the girl responded. "My mother and father talk about him a lot. Percy does, too, sometimes, and Ron collects the cards from the Chocolate Frog packages."

"Does he have a card of Albus?"

"I think so," Aralynn replied. "Though, I've never seen it. He likes to keep them hidden away. He's afraid that Fred and George will do something to them."

Madam Malkin let out a hearty laugh. "They are very valuable cards, if you have enough of them."

Aralynn smiled down at her, and watched her with her needle and thread. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she answered, "I was in Hufflepuff."

Before Aralynn could ask any further questions, Madam Malkin excused herself to the curtain-covered room once again. The bell above the shop door rang, thus indicating someone had either exited or entered. A tall, platinum blond-haired man with a pale, pointed face and grey eyes began to walk towards the room where Aralynn stood alone. As he did, the walking stick in his right hand hit the flooring with a proud thud every few seconds. Beside him was a slender boy with his head held proudly, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his counterpart. When the two came into full view, Aralynn watched them with a nervous feeling twisting in the pit of her stomach.

The elder of the two matched his cold, grey eyes with Aralynn's warm, green ones. The two held a stare before he took exactly three steps forward and now stood only inches away from her. "And who are you?" he asked with a smooth voice like a snake's hissing.

"Aralynn," she replied, "Aralynn Weasley."

"Weasley is it?" he mocked in a tone tinged with disbelief. "I see."

Aralynn narrowed her eyes at the man, and glanced to the boy. "I've told you who I am, now it's only polite you tell me who you are."

"Oh, yes, of course," he replied lazily, "where are my manners? My name is Lucius Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco."

Draco Malfoy said nothing, but made eye contact with the girl, which seemed to be his way of saying 'hello'. The room was silent for a few long moments before he turned towards her. "Hello," was all he said.

"Hello," Aralynn replied, then looked to Lucius Malfoy. The two gave her an uneasy feeling.

Madam Malkin returned from the other room, and began sewing Aralynn's robe without sparing a single glance to the two blond men. She sewed in silence for several minutes, and then said: "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"In fact, there is," he replied haughtily. "My boy needs robes, as his first year at Hogwarts is soon starting. I have his measurements here. All I need you to do is fashion them."

When Lucius Malfoy saw that Madam Malkin was making no effort to oblige to his whim, he then added, and with a venomous tone, " _immediately_."

Madam Malkin's eyes flickered with irritation. "As you can see, Mr. Malfoy, I am currently with a customer. I will be happy to serve you, but you _will_ wait your turn."

"I demand to be served now!" he shouted. When Madam Malkin did not react, Lucius took his cane, and drove the base of it into the floor.

The woman masked her anger with cheerfulness, and turned to him with a bright smile. "I will be with you as soon as I am done with my current customer, sir. Thank you for your patience!"

Lucius began to visibly boil with rage and disrespect. He turned his eyes to Aralynn, and gave her a hard look for several moments. "I will be seeing you again soon, _Weasley_."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows at the tone in which he said 'Weasley'. Before she could ask why he enunciated her name in such a way, he turned sharply and led his scowling son away from the two women. Aralynn considered asking Madam Malkin what the issue with Lucius Malfoy was, but she decided it was better if she didn't.

Once the woman finished Aralynn's measuring and pinning, she helped the girl step down from the platform. "Wait up front with your father, please," she asked. "I'll return shortly."

Aralynn returned to her father and brother, only to notice that her father was stewing.

"How was it?" Ron asked.

"Fine," she replied. "Until that blond man and his son came back there. Did you see him?"

Ron nodded. "He and Dad had an argument outside. I couldn't hear what was going on. What did he say back there?"

"He and Madam Malkin argued," she told, then looked to Ron. "He asked who I was, and when I told him, he didn't seem the believe me. When he was leaving, he said 'Weasley' as if it were some sort of fake identity. It was strange."

"Sounds like it was," Ron agreed.

Once they left the shop and began to move on to their next location, Aralynn kept repeating the conversation she had with Lucius Malfoy in her head. She couldn't understand why he seemed to disbelieve that she was a Weasley. How could she be anyone different? Molly and Arthur Weasley were her parents. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were her siblings. She had red hair, like the rest of them. How was it possible that he could see her as someone else? She couldn't wrap her head around the answer. She didn't know. She was Aralynn Nicole Weasley, and no one else.


	5. Ollivander and the Ominous Foretelling

Aralynn had been stewing ever since she encountered Lucius Malfoy in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. First of all, she didn't understand why he had spoken to her in such an arrogant manner, and second of all, she couldn't figure out why he had treated her as though she were someone other than herself. The way he said goodbye wasn't sitting well with her. It clouded her mind and distracted her, and kept her from enjoying the beauty of Diagon Alley. They were still walking throughout the alley, stopping in and out of shops, buying what they needed, and leaving the shops again. Aralynn was still contemplating Lucius Malfoy's words when she bumped into her father. He looked down at her, giving her a wide smile and gestured for her to go inside.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking to the dimly lit, spooky shop. "Dad, I don't think anyone is in there."

"This is Ollivander's Wand Shop," Arthur told her. "The finest witches and wizards have gotten their wands from Ollivander's, including all of us. You need a wand, and there's no better place for you to get one. Go inside."

"I think it's empty," she said.

"It's not," Arthur reassured. "Go on, Mr. Ollivander won't hurt you."

"I have to go in by _myself?_ " she asked incredulously, giving the shop a skeptical look.

"Mr. Ollivander doesn't like more than one person inside at a time. He says that it disrupts the process. I promise, you'll be okay, Aralynn."

Aralynn looked up at her father, then to the shop apprehensively. She took a few steps forward and slowly pushed the creaking door open. An old bell rang from the top of the door and she walked up to the counter. The door slammed behind her, which caused her to jump and yelp in fear. She swung around to see what had caused to noise, but found herself staring at the simple door. "Calm down, Aralynn," she muttered to herself. "Calm down, there's nothing scary about this shop. It's just old, and dusty, and… musty."

The girl walked forward, looking back and forth nervously. The shop was still and quiet. The air rolling around inside was chilled and littered with dust. The shelves were tall, and some were knocked over. There were long, black boxes resting on the shelves that had fallen on the floor, had turned over, and had rotted due to water dripping from the ceiling. The smell of the building was almost nauseating. Aralynn rubbed at her forearm, looking between the shelves; looking for any sign of human life. She felt her skin crawl, which caused coldness to swirl down her spine, and she shivered. The overall feeling of the building was extremely uncomfortable. "Hello?" she whispered, looking between the shelves. "Hello, my name is Aralynn Weasley, and I need my wand."

There was no answer, however, and she wasn't surprised to receive silence in return. ' _Did I not speak loudly enough?_ ' she thought. The shop remained eerily quiet and still. There had been no movement outside of her own, and she began to feel even more uncomfortable than she previously did because of the stillness.

"Hello?" she called again, but louder this time. A few moments after she spoke, a man with wild white hair appeared in a dark doorway that led to a different room. The two locked eyes. His eyes were squinted and full of curiosity and wonder, while Aralynn's reflected nervousness and fear.

"Hello, little one," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard. He moved forward slowly, almost gracefully, with his eyes studying her as he did. "You've come for your wand, I presume?" he asked.

Aralynn, paralyzed with fear and unable to speak, nodded several times instead. She watched the man circle her like a vulture examining its prey. Suddenly, he moved forward, and cupped her face in his hands. Her body went absolutely still, and she looked into his wide, pale eyes, but he was looking upward—to her forehead. Her hands shook.

The man touched a fingertip to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead, and then traced his finger along its shape. "Curious," he muttered, still holding Aralynn's face close to his, "how very curious."

"Sir?" her raspy and dry throat croaked. "What's curious?"

"I have been wondering when I would be seeing you in my shop," he answered and released her face as gently as possible. "I have been awaiting your arrival for quite a time, Aralynn. I had expected you to come sooner, but it's no wonder that you've passed here on this day, at this hour."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what he meant. She opened her mouth to ask, but her mind suddenly switched courses. "How did you know my name?"

"You're no secret from me," he said, going behind his desk to shuffle through items on the shelves below. "I know exactly who you are, but you may not fully understand that quite yet. That was to be expected."

She watched the top of his wild hair move from behind the counter as he continued to rummage through his things. "I don't understand what you mean," she admitted. "What is it that you mean, sir?"

"Ollivander," he corrected. "My name is Garrick Ollivander, and you may call me as such, Aralynn. We will be great friends, you and I."

"I'm sure," she replied quickly. "Mr. Ollivander, what did you mean? That it's no wonder I've come here on this day, on this hour?"

"In time, child," he answered, though not straightforward. "You will know in time."

"That doesn't help me now…"

"Why are you here? Ah, yes, of course! Your wand! Come, child, we'll find the perfect wand for you," he said and vanished into the disarray of his shelves. She peeked around the corner, and listened to him toss boxes back and forth, turn over the already turned boxes, open some, close some, and shove them out of his way. "Here," he said as he reappeared. "Try this one. It is a ten-inch acacia wand, and its core is hair from the tail of a unicorn, and it is slightly yielding: a fine wand to have."

Aralynn took the wand as he handed it to her. She held it in her hand, looking down at it with a dumbfounded expression. "What do I do…?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" Ollivander waved his arms eccentrically, "give it a flick."

She looked down at it skeptically, but gave it a small flick as instructed. The flick of the wand caused the chandelier hanging from the ceiling to come crashing down and onto the floor. Aralynn stumbled backwards, staring at the chandelier with a horrified expression. "I'm sorry!" she halfway shouted. "I'm so sorry!"

He gave a hearty laugh. "Not to worry, child. This happens quite often," he reassured and pulled out a wand of his own. He waved it over the mess, and Aralynn watched as the chandelier reformed and reattached itself back to the ceiling. Ollivander looked to her expression and looked up to the ceiling with her, "extraordinary thing, magic."

"Extraordinary," she agreed.

"Well, this is not the right wand for you," he said as he took it back from her hand. "Worry not, however, we will find you one."

Again, he disappeared into his jungle of shelves. When he returned, he had a new wand in his hand. "This one is eight inches, made of cedar, with a dragon heartstring core, and it is brittle—a fine beginner's wand. Perhaps this will be the one, yes?"

"Maybe," she nodded, taking the wand from him. She stood there with the wand in her hand and pressed her lips together. She was apprehensive about this one, but she knew that she wouldn't find the right wand unless she tested it. Nervously, she flicked it, and all of the glass in the entire building shattered. She threw her arms over her head to shield herself from the flying shards.

"Definitely not that one!" he exclaimed, waving his wand to put the shop back into its former state. Ollivander took the cedar wand from Aralynn's hand and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He spared a glance back to her forehead before he began to mutter to himself, and once again, went to ravage through his shelves. The girl stood awkwardly, thinking about all of the damage that could be caused simply due to an improper wand.

From between the rows, Garrick Ollivander's voice could be heard, moving back and forth. "Ivy? No, definitely not. Walnut isn't right, either, no. Willow, ah, yes, willow, if only she knew… holly, perhaps, if she is… yes, holly may do."

She looked over when Ollivander returned with two different wands. He stared at her expectantly, and she returned the look, as he had been giving her information about the wands this entire time. The man caught on and nodded. "Yes, of course," he said, and then offered the one in his left hand. "This is a twelve-inch wand, made of holly. The core is made of Veela hair, and it is very flexible."

The girl sighed, and took the wand. She swished it around and caused boxes of wands to go soaring across the room. She dropped it immediately and looked back and forth, biting her lip, studying the disarray. She began to question if she would ever find a wand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander."

"Don't apologize, little miss, it's perfectly alright. The wands must be tested in order for it to determine if it is going to work out. You see, the wand chooses the witch, Aralynn, the witch does not choose the wand."

"I see," she said, even though she didn't quite understand. "What's the next one? Maybe it'll be the one?"

"I somehow believe it will be…" he agreed, then handed it to her. "It is a reasonably supple, nine-inch wand, and it is made of willow."

The girl swallowed hard, taking the wand. She held it in her palm and looked down to it. There was a sense of familiarity with it, but she didn't quite know how. A breeze swirled throughout Ollivander's shop and rolled over Aralynn's body. The current of air brushed her bangs from her forehead, and filled her with warmth. She looked up to Garrick Ollivander. "I think it chose me," she told him.

"Now, that," he began, "is curious, indeed."

"I'm sorry—what's curious, again?"

"Wandlore is a tricky thing, little miss, but we've all understood that the wand chooses the wizard, or, in your case, the witch. However, the best results, as we have observed, comes when there is a strong affinity between wand and witch. The two must connect, but for what reason? That's complex for our understandings. You see, I remember every wand I've ever sold Miss… Weasley… and it is curious that this wand would choose you. There is an affinity between you—a past, and a complexity. Some of which, I do understand, but others… That's left for question."

"I'm… not following."

"It is curious that a willow wand would choose you, but even more curious that this wand would choose you with the core it has."

"Which is?"

"A phoenix feather," he replied, "but a very _remarkable_ feather. The feather inside of your wand comes from one particular phoenix, but why it is curious is because this phoenix gave two others feathers for wands, but only two. It is curious that this wand would choose you when of its brothers gifted with you that scar," he explained as he pointed to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on the girl's forehead.

"My scar?" she reiterated and reached up to touch it. "I don't understand."

"No," he agreed, "I don't suspect you do, but you will. Mark my words, you will understand, Aralynn, someday, and hopefully soon. Even so, understand this: you possess great power, young one—power that we all will see one day."

She stared at him for a long time before looking down to the wand. She had questions—so many questions, but within her heart, she knew she would receive no answers. "Ah, how much is the wand?"

"Three galleons," he replied.

Aralynn fished through her pocket and grabbed some of the money her father loaned her before entering the shop. She offered the coins to the owner, but he stared at her for a long time. She continued to hold her hand out for him, and soon enough, he took the coins from her palm and smiled as a 'thank you'. Aralynn nodded slowly, thanked him for her wand, and quickly exited the shop. When she was outside, she looked back to it and frowned. How long was she in there? The thought of her being in there to begin with was enough to make her shiver. She turned to see her father and brother still standing there, waiting.

"How was it?" Arthur asked as she approached.

"Strange," she answered honestly.

"Strange?" Ron repeated.

"You have no idea. He was really creepy, and a little scary."

"Well, what kind of wand did you get?"

"A nine-inch, reasonably supple wand made of willow with a phoenix feather for a core. He said that it was curious that this wand chose me. He said we have a complex connection, and that I'll understand it soon enough."

"What does that even mean?" Ron questioned; looking confused.

"I have no idea."

Arthur Weasley, having been listening to the conversation, suddenly bore an expression of concern. He straightened his back and waved to the children. "Come along," he ushered, "we've done most of the shopping, but we still have one more place to go, and that is for Aralynn's pet. So, Little Red, where would you like to go: Magical Menagerie or Eeylops Owl Emporium?"

"Eeylops," she answered. "I think I want an owl."

"The Owl Emporium it is," he beamed and led them in that direction.

As they walked, Ron nudged his sister. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You've seemed a little bit off since you came out of the wand shop."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I've heard a lot of weird things today, that's all."

"What do you mean? How was it weird?"

"It's complicated," Aralynn sighed. "I've had a lot of people treat as someone I'm not, and I can't say I understand why. It's like they know something about me that I'm missing, which is absurd in itself, but, I don't know, it's odd, and making me paranoid. Is there something about myself that I don't know?"

"I doubt it," he shrugged. "They're probably talking about things you don't understand, that's all. You shouldn't let it wig you out. It's probably nothing."

"Yeah, probably," she agreed halfheartedly. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well, then, relax. It's fine."

Aralynn nodded, giving him a small smile. When they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium, she walked inside and glanced around. The building was dimly lit and smelled strongly of hay. There was a nonstop chain of chirps as she walked throughout it. Owls rested on perches in cages, some flew overheard; outside of their cages. How was she going to pick? Was it possible for her to make a connection with a bird?

She continued to look between cages, studying the wide eyes that watched as she walked by. They were unalarmed to a see a human so close to them, but skeptical nonetheless. Aralynn looked into a dark corner to see the outline of a body sitting on a perch outside of its cage. She leaned forward and two dark eyes peered back. The owl shifted forward slightly. It seemed to be mimicking her actions. "Hello," she said softly. "My name is Aralynn. You're a very beautiful bird. I'm going to this magical school, and I need a pet. That's why I'm here. Maybe you could be the one?"

She couldn't believe she was talking to a bird, but it seemed to understand. It tilted its head as she spoke and flew off of the perch, and onto her shoulder. She looked up to it, and it looked down to her. "I guess you're willing," she said, carefully making her way to the register.

A female employee looked up from the newspaper in her hands. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was in here," she said. She stood up and looked to the owl on Aralynn's shoulder. "One barn owl," she said to herself as she looked through the pricing pamphlet. "Good luck with her. She's relatively antisocial. She mostly broods in that corner all day and night. We've started to call her 'Incubant,' which translates to 'brooding' in Latin. You can rename her, of course."

Aralynn looked up to the bird and smiled a little bit. "I'm going to call her Amete. It seems like a fitting name, doesn't it?"

"Amete it is," she agreed, "ten galleons."

The girl bit down on her lip and fished into her pocket. Though she didn't have ten galleon coins, she counted out all of her different coins so it would be the equivalent to ten galleons. Aralynn waited as the employee counted the money. When she finished, she looked up and nodded. "Right on, you're good to go."

Aralynn gave her a small smile and walked out of the emporium. As she was exiting, she heard the employee call out to them with, "'bye, Incubant! I mean—bye, Amete!"

When Aralynn was out of the owl emporium, Arthur smiled at the bird and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Shall we go home now, Little Red?" he asked, leading his two children down the path. "How would you like to go home: Floo Powder or Apparition?"

"Can we please Apparate?" Aralynn asked excitedly before pausing. "Actually, before we leave, there's one more thing I have to get."

Arthur nodded. "Yes ma'am," he agreed and followed Aralynn down the path. She entered the shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and remained in there for a short few moments. When she returned, Ron was shuffling his feet, looking unhappy. The girl smiled to herself and snuck up to him, bestowing a book detailing the entire history of the Chudley Cannons.

Ron lifted his head and noticed the book in her hands. He looked up to her, his face brightened with excitement. "For me?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "Oh, this is _brilliant!_ "

For the first time that day, he spoke 'brilliant' without a trace of sarcasm.

"Of course it's for you," she told him with a shake of her head. "I promised to buy you something, didn't I?"

"You're the best sister ever!" Ronald Weasley exclaimed, holding the book closely to his chest.

As they stood there; Percy, Fred, and George rejoined them from their voyage around Diagon Alley. Percy's expression was swollen with annoyance; while Fred and George held mischievous and accomplished smirks.

"How was the exploration, boys?" asked Arthur Weasley.

"Oh, excellent," George answered.

"Completely disaster-free," Fred added.

Percy shook his head as a decline to answer. Clearly, Fred and George were not as innocent as they claimed to be—then again, no one believed their story of tameness to be true.

Arthur shook his head at the boys and gathered everyone and everything together to be touching. Once it seemed that everything was secure, he began to focus his mind on their home back in Ottery St. Catchpole, and then they felt as though they were contents being stirred in a glass of water. They opened their eyes to see that they were home, in a matter of a few seconds. "Gather your things and start packing," Arthur told him. "Then head to sleep. Hogwarts will be starting soon, and you'll need all of the energy you can get."

The redheaded children nodded and began to trudge everything up the stairs. When they reached the top of the Burrow, they began to unpack the items from their parcels, and then repack them in their trunks for their journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Aralynn placed Amete in the cage of their family owl, Errol, but left the door open for her to fly freely. She and her brother worked together to pack their trunks and remind one another of anything they may be forgetting. Once they had finished, they flopped down on their beds and crawled under the blankets to sleep.

Aralynn found that she was unable to sleep, and turned towards her brother's back. "Hey, Ron?" she called across the room.

"Hmm?" he grunted in response, curled up on his bed.

"Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you think it'll be as wonderful as everyone says it is?"

"Yeah," he yawned.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm kind of nervous. What if I don't make friends? What if I'm useless with magic?"

"You'll be fine, Ara."

"Ron?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"What if I'm sorted into Slytherin?"

Ron Weasley, however, had fallen asleep in the short time it took her to ask the question. When she heard his soft snoring from the bed, she turned to stare at the orange wall her bed was pushed against. Several different thoughts were running through her mind, leaving her sleepless and worrisome. While she was alone with her thoughts, she thought about the arrogant Lucius Malfoy and his subtle accusations toward her identity—she thought about the ominous Garrick Ollivander, who, too, seemed to be telling her that she was someone other than Aralynn Nicole Weasley. Was she someone other than who she believed herself to be? She began to wonder.


	6. The Boy with Black Hair

The past few weeks have had the Weasley family in an utter frenzy. Trunks sat in the halls, clothes were thrown askew, and they hollered to each other when they couldn't find something they had been looking for. Now that today was the day where the children needed to be on the train leading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before eleven o'clock, the Burrow was in absolute chaos. All members of the family were frantic as they jogged up and down flights of stairs, and slammed into one another when they weren't paying attention to where they were going. If someone were to pass by the house at that very moment, they would be sure that there was a menagerie of heavy animals living inside, causing the loudest racket.

Near the top of the Burrow, a blood-curdling scream echoed down the stairs, followed by two voices cackling with amusement. It then sounded as though there was a herd of elephants stampeding to the ground floor. Ron Weasley jumped down from the last few steps and ran to his sister, shoving her in front of him for protection. "Spiders!" he cried, "they came after me with _spiders_ , Aralynn! I _hate_ spiders!"

Molly Weasley overheard him and marched right up to the bottom of the stairs and began to scream up all of them. "FRED, GEORGE!" she bellowed, "YOU LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE AND PACK YOUR THINGS! WE NEED TO LEAVE SOON!"

"We haven't done a thing!" Fred's voice called back.

"Nothing, Mother, we're innocent!" George added.

"We're innocent!" they said together.

The mother of the house was visibly aggravated, and she marched back to the stairs again, but when she called up them again, it was not with a howling voice, but an exasperated tone. "Boys, just finish your packing!" she said.

As Molly walked away from the stairs to continue to try and get the rest of her family in order, Ron was still rambling about spiders and his deep hatred for them. When he was three years old, Fred and George had transfigured his teddy bear into a giant spider, and since then, he had been terrified of them. Aralynn turned to him and grabbed ahold of his arms to keep him from waving them erratically while ranting about the spiders. "Ron, calm down," she cooed, "the spiders are gone."

"I'm not going back up there!" he stated. "They probably have them hidden in our bedroom! How can I finish packing when there are spiders in the room, Aralynn? What if they're hidden in my trunk?"

"They're gone," she said again. "I'll go up there with you. We really need to finish packing. We're leaving for Hogwarts today, remember?"

At the mention of Hogwarts, Ron calmed his spider-fueled rage, and replaced the fear with excitement, but laced with nervousness. He agreed to go back into his bedroom with her, but only if she led the way. They then ascended the staircases with Aralynn in lead and Ron cowering behind her. As they made their way to the top of the Burrow, they climbed the all of the stairs and passed by several level sections. Photographs and doors lined the walls, and a plethora of items cluttered the hallways. When they reached the door to their bedroom, Ron had Aralynn check all of the possible areas in which spiders could be hiding outside, and inside, of the bedroom. When she reassured that he was perfectly safe from the eight-legged creatures, they went inside together.

Ron gave the room a skeptical once-over, and then convinced himself that they were, indeed, safe. They lugged their trunks atop of their beds and continued packing clothes and different materials inside of them. Aralynn crawled halfway under her bed and dragged the scrapbook her brother made her for their birthday out from under it. She flagged through the pages before setting it neatly atop her clothes. "I can't wait to add more to it," she told him with a gesture towards the book. "Hogwarts will bring a lot of memories, and the book will hold all of them."

"You like it, right?" he asked. "It took a long time to make. I suffered through a lot of paper cuts, just for _you_ , so you'd better like it."

"I love it," she said and shoved him playfully. "I already told you that, dunderhead."

He stumbled backwards from her shove and ended up falling into the depth of his trunk. "Hey!" he scolded, "that was unnecessary."

"Necessary to me," she grinned as she closed the top of the trunk and locked it afterwards. "Hurry up, Ronald!" she told him. "We need to leave soon and you have hardly anything in your trunk!"

"I could've had more if you hadn't pushed me into it," he huffed. He lifted himself out of the trunk and threw a few more things into it, closed it, and locked it. He dragged it off of his bed, and began to drag it out the door once it had landed with a loud thud. "Didn't Dad already have us pack this junk when we got back from Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," Aralynn said as followed him down the stairs. "Clearly, however, that didn't turn out very well."

Anyone would have known they were coming, as the bases of the trunks hit each stair with great clonking as they descended. When they reached the ground level, they joined their mother, father, younger sister Ginny, and elder brother Percy in the living room. Now that the majority of them were here, they needed to wait on Fred and George to finish whatever it was that they were doing. Aralynn looked to Ginny, who was clearly upset that she was not yet able to join her siblings at Hogwarts. "You'll be there soon," she reassured with a smile. "Then it'll feel like you were never stuck at home, having to say goodbye to us."

"That seems like such a long time away," Ginny replied with a frown upon her face.

"It's not going to be as long as it seems," Aralynn told her. "I started to believe this day would never come, but here it is—staring me in the face. I promise, Gin, this year will fly by."

Ginevra Weasley looked up to her sister with a smile. She leaned forward to embrace her in a hug. "Thanks, Ara," she said. "I appreciate this."

Aralynn returned her hug and nodded. "I'm here for a little reassuring anytime you need me to be."

They shared a smile just as Molly Weasley began ushering all of her children out the door. "Come along, everyone. Your father needs to be off for the Ministry, but he wants to see you all off first. Come on, come on!"

The Weasley family shuffled out the door and gathered around the older model Ford Anglia car parked a short distance from the house. Arthur Weasley went around, hugging his children, and kissing their heads and cheeks. He stepped back from the crowd and tipped his pointed hat to them. "Have a safe journey, Weasleys—I love you!"

They returned his love, and with the blink of an eye, Arthur Weasley had vanished into thin air. Molly then began gesturing for the children to congregate into the car. From the outside, the Ford Anglia didn't seem large enough to seat eight Weasley children. However, when entering the car, it was much larger than its exterior appearance.

"Nice job with the Expansion Charm, Mum," George said as he slid into his seat next to Fred. "It's very roomy back here."

"Is it big enough for you all?" she asked, turning in her seat to look at her children. "Not too cramped?"

"Just perfect," Ginny answered as she shut the door behind her. "We all fit."

"Excellent," Molly beamed with pride. She then turned over the engine and began driving the car down the dirt path.

Ron, who was sitting between George and Aralynn, elbowed his twin gently. "We're finally off to Hogwarts," he said to her. "Can you believe it?"

"The nervousness in my stomach says I can," she admitted. "I'm still afraid that I may be put into Slytherin."

"Just remember what Charlie said, Aralynn: 'Slytherin is the House of Evil People, but not the House of Evil'. Even if you were sorted into Slytherin, you'd be fine."

"You won't have to worry about that," interrupted Molly from the front seat. "I don't believe you'll be sorted into Slytherin. If anything, you would be sorted in Ravenclaw."

It was clear to Aralynn that, just as Charlie had mentioned in his letter, Molly Weasley was very uneasy with the thought of one of her children being sorted into Slytherin, and working under the teachings of Salazar Slytherin. "There's always the possibility, Mum. I think we should prepare for anything that could happen."

"I really am very insistent against this," said Molly.

"I'm sure she'll be sorted into Gryffindor, as the rest of us have," Percy told his mother from the opposite seat in the front of the car. "You have nothing to worry about, Mum."

With a sigh, Aralynn let the discussion drop. She knew that being sorted as a Slytherin was a very distinct possibility, and she couldn't understand why her mother believed that would be so disgraceful. It wasn't disgraceful to be a member of House Slytherin.

The question ached in her mind. She wanted it to be gone; she wanted to think of better things, but the aching refused to cease. The girl was plagued with thoughts of being disowned by her family simply because they were displeased with the house she was sorted into. Emotions began welling in her chest, daring tears to her eyes.

In that moment when tears teased to fall over Aralynn's eyes, Molly cranked back a black lever, and the Ford Anglia ascended towards the sky. The fear and panic evaporated from the girl's chest, now leaving pure, unadulterated excitement. The Weasley mother pressed in a silver button once they were elevated high enough that would cloak the entire car and all of its passengers from the eyes of non-magic folk below.

The Weasleys' journey to King's Cross Station in London passed by with the blink of an eye. Once they were safe in a secluded area without Muggle onlookers, Molly landed the invisible car between the lines of a parking spot, and pulled the silver button out from the socket so that they would come back into view. She quickly emerged from the car, and tottered frantically to the trunk. "Come on, children," she ushered, "we're very, _very_ behind schedule!"

All eight of the redheaded children scuttled from the car, gathered their belongings—with a few mistakes of what was whose—lugged their trunks to the trolleys, and began panicked running towards Platform 9 . Trolleys flying rapidly about and people diving away for their own safety; it was clear that the Weasleys were on a mission.

"Hurry along!" called Molly from the lead. "The Platform is just ahead—oh, we'd get there sooner if these confounded _Muggles_ would MOVE!"

When the signs on the brown-bricked pillar separated Platforms 9 and 10 came into view, the Weasleys slowed their pace and came to a stop just before the column and gathered tightly around it. Molly urged the eldest, Percy, to be the first to cross through the platform. Once he disappeared behind the wall, she turned to her twin boys. "Come along, Fred, you're next."

George and Fred spared mischievous glances before George gestured to his brother with his arm. " _He's_ not Fred, _I_ am."

"Honestly, woman, you call yourself _our_ mother," added Fred, pretending as though he were George.

Molly Weasley released a heavy sigh, and gave a defeated nod. "I'm sorry, George."

Fred stepped before the platform and turned a cheeky, playful to his mother. "Only joking," he said, "I am Fred!" he announced. He then ran for the column, before his mother could grab him by the hair, pull him back to her, and smack him upside the head. George followed quickly suit, fearing the same punishment.

Aralynn looked to Ronald and giggled quietly behind her hand at their antics.

 _How typical of the boys,_ she thought.

Though she still looked a tad bit aggravated, Molly waved her arm for Ron to come forth. "It's your turn, now, love. Hurry along."

Ron began to run forward, only to halt to a stop when another trolley cut in front of his own. Aralynn looked to see a frail boy with unkempt black hair, green eyes, and large round glasses covering one-half of his face. She glanced over him quickly and felt her body go rigid. A lump was developing in her drying throat, but she couldn't understand why.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered nervously in a meek voice. "I'm a bit lost, and I was wondering if you could… could, well…"

Molly watched the boy with soft eyes, and then glanced to the platform while he gestured unsurely towards it. "Do you need help getting onto the platform, dear?"

The black-haired boy nodded silently; helplessly.

"Don't be embarrassed," she cooed to him in a motherly tone. "You're not the only first-year here looking to get onto Platform 9 . See, what you do is: face the column directly, and head straight for it. If you're afraid, you best give it a bit of a run. It'll ease your nerves."

The boy looked from Molly Weasley to the column uneasily. He inhaled a long and deep breath and bore an expression of determination upon his face. Before he raced onto the platform, he turned to the Weasley mother and flashed a smile. "Thank you very much," he said politely, ran off, and sunk into the column.

"Sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley remarked to herself before turning back to her remaining two children. "Ron; Aralynn—time to go. It's nearly eleven."

Ron turned to his sister, who was staring vacantly at the spot where the unnamed boy had been standing, and gave her a gentle nudge. When she met his eyes, he gestured towards the pillar with the top of his head. "We need to go."

"Of course," Aralynn replied hoarsely, but Ron had been too distracted to notice. He looked at the entrance to the platform anxiously, but entered it anyway.

She said her goodbyes to her mother, and followed after her brother as quickly as she could. When she crossed through the barrier, and arrived on the other side, she looked up to a red and black train, smoking as it waited to depart. Her lower jaw dropped in awe as she walked leisurely towards the assistant, who was packing the trunks into one of the train's compartments.

She snapped from her daze when she heard her name being shouted through the loudness of the platform. She looked towards the source of the voice to see Ron leaning halfway off of the train from the entrance. Aralynn ran over, and they boarded the train together. They walked down the narrow aisles from car to car, but none of the compartments were empty. Finally, Ron peered through the glass of one of the doors to see the same black-haired boy from earlier sitting by his lonesome. "Come on," he said to his sister, "there's nowhere else."

Aralynn spared a glance into the compartment and felt her throat go dry again. "Anywhere but here," she whispered to him. "Ron, _please_."

"Everywhere else is completely full, Aralynn," he told her. "Don't be a nutter."

She looked back through the glass and sighed in defeat. "Fine," she replied sharply.

He rolled his eyes and slid the door open. "Excuse me—d'you mind if my sister and I sit with you? There are no free compartments."

"No!" the boy exclaimed eagerly. "No, please, come in."

Ron gave him a thankful smile, grabbed Aralynn by the wrist, and pulled her into the compartment with him. They took the seats directly across from the boy and looked to his smiling face.

"I'm Ron," said Aralynn's brother. "Ron Weasley, and this is my twin sister—Aralynn."

"It's great to meet you," the boy told them with a nod of his head. "I'm Harry Potter."

Ron and Aralynn Weasley gave one another a shocked looked. Slowly, Ron turned his head back to Harry with wide eyes. "No kidding!" he halfway shouted. " _You're_ Harry Potter— _the_ Harry Potter—the boy who lived?"

Harry looked to the window thoughtfully. "I suppose I am, yeah."

"Is it, true, then—the scar, I mean? Do you really have it?"

Harry pulled back the back from his forehead, revealing a lightning bolt-shaped scar above his right eyebrows. "It's true!"

When Aralynn saw the scar upon Harry's forehead, her face drained of all color. How was it that she had the exact scar, shape and all, above her right eyebrow; as the famous Harry Potter—the boy who lived? When she was young, and first discovered the ugly thing upon her forehead, she went straight to her mother and asked her how to make it go away.

" _It'll never go away,_ " Molly told her, " _but, if you'd like, we can cover it with makeup. You can hide it away from everybody, if that's what you want to do. You should remember, though, Aralynn—that scar will always be with you. It's part of who you are as a person._ "

From that moment on, Aralynn had hidden the hideous scar with layers and layers of makeup. Her own twin brother had never noticed she had it, but there it was now, staring directly at her from Harry Potter's forehead. She wanted to vomit.

"That's totally wicked," Ronald remarked with a smile on his face.

"It's always been there," Harry told him. "I never really thought it was special until recently—a bit wonky, sure, but never special."

"It's definitely special," nodded Ron. "Isn't it, Ara?"

Aralynn nodded slowly and weakly. There were absolutely no words in her throat at the current moment. She still wanted to vomit.

Harry looked to her and knitted his eyebrows together. "Er—Aralynn—are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she managed to croak out. "A bit motion-sick, I think."

He looked to see an elderly woman stopped outside of their compartment, pushing a three-tiered trolley packed with sweets. "Do you need something to eat?"

She shook her head. "Our Mum packed us some sandwiches for the trip."

Ron shuffled through his pocket and pulled out crumbled sandwiches wrapped in cellophane with a bleak expression. "She's so thoughtful; Mum."

Harry Potter looked to the sandwiches and pressed his lips into a thin line. When the woman opened the door to the compartment and asked if they wanted anything from the trolley, he pulled out a handful of golden galleons from his pocket. "We'll take the lot!"

Ron and Aralynn both gawked at the mound of coins in his palm. Collectively, it was more money than they had ever seen before. It was a beautiful, yet jealousy-inducing sight.

The three of them gathered the treats into their arms and piled them onto the seat that Harry was sitting him, and sat next to him. Aralynn sat warily away as the two boys began devouring the candies. She was still feeling sick—not from the motion of the rain, as she had lied, but because of that scar on Harry's forehead. Unanswered questions raced through her mind.

They began talking and growing closer to friendship as Aralynn sat and watched them in silence. She wanted to join in the merriment, but she felt physically unable to muster any cheer. She wanted to break down and interrogate Harry—why did she have the same scar as him? Why did she feel so connected to him? Why did she feel odd while in his presence?

Lost in her own thought, she hadn't noticed when Ron began attempting to gain her attention. Finally, when he punched her in the arm, she turned to with him a dark glare. "Why did you do that?" she demanded angrily.

"You were ignoring me! I was trying to get your attention!"

"What do you want, Ronald?"

"I wanted to know if you were okay. You've been staring into space the entire time we've been on the train. You should join in on the conversation."

"I'm not feeling very talkative right now."

"What's wrong? I can tell there's something wrong with you."

Aralynn thought of a lie as quickly as she could. "I'm nervous about starting Hogwarts. The closer we get, the more my stomach knots."

Ron put a hand upon Aralynn's shoulder. "It's going to fine, Ara—it's going to be great. It's going to be the most magical thing we've ever experienced. There's nothing to be nervous about."

She shifted her eyes to look at Harry, who was looking at her with a concerned expression. When he noticed that she was looking at him, he gave her a smile. "Ron's right. It's going to be incredible."

"Incredible," she agreed, looking out the window. For a moment, she could visualize what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked like. She had seen it in photographs and articles that Percy read from the Daily Prophet, but now she thought of how it would look, standing before it. A massive, majestic and grand castle—aged beautifully like a fine wine, emitting the utter epitome of magic to all first-time onlookers.

She smiled to herself at the thought, only barely hearing the conversation between Ron and Harry about Chocolate Frogs and the Famous Witch or Wizard Cards that come in the package. He began to demonstrate to Harry a spell that Fred had given him to turn his rat, Scabbers, yellow when the compartment door was thrust open. A girl dressed in her robes with bushy brunette hair was scanning their compartment with her eyes. She looked to the three of them and straightened her back. "Have any of you seen a toad? This boy, Neville, lost him—could be hopping about anywhere."

"No," Ron told her, shaking his head.

The girl looked to Ron's drawn wand, and then to the rat. "Are you doing magic? Can I watch?" she asked, though it seemed to be more of a rhetorical question, as she sat across from them before they could consent to her entrance. "Go on."

Ron scowled at her, rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to Scabbers. He began waving his wand in no particular pattern, and spoke, " _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow—turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!_ "

However, Scabbers was left unchanged.

"It was bogus!" he roared angrily. "Of course—typical of Fred—giving me bogus spells just to embarrass me in front of people!"

"I can show you a bit of _real_ magic," the girl intervened. She looked around for something she could cast a spell on. She noticed the tape covering the nosepiece to Harry's glasses, scooted over on the seat to be across from him, drew her wand, cleared her throat, and waved it. " _Oculus Reparo_."

The tape fell from Harry's glasses, revealing the broken nosepiece to now be fixed. He pulled them off of his face and looked down to them. "That's brilliant."

"Thank you," she grinned and paused. "What a wonder! You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she introduced, and then looked to Ron and Aralynn expectantly.

"I'm Aralynn Weasley," she said. "This is my brother, Ron."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said, stood, and headed for the exit. Without looking back, she said, "We're arriving at Hogwarts soon, and everyone is changing into their robes—you three should do the same."

When Hermione Granger left their compartment, Ron turned slowly to Harry. "Is she _completely_ off her rocker?"

Aralynn smacked his arm. "Don't be rude, Ronald."

"Oh, come on—didn't you _see_ her? She's a complete _nutter_."

"She's proud of herself for using magic," she hissed. "Don't dampen her pride with your lack of politeness."

Ron rolled his eyes and stood from his seat. "She was right about one thing—we should be changing into our robes. You first, since you're the only girl—I'll cover you with my robe until you're finished."

The three of them bustled about the compartment as they changed into their uniforms and robes. Once they were dressed in their Hogwarts attire, they sat near the window and stared at the castle approaching rapidly from the distance. Finally, the train came to a halt, and all of the students ran off of it, as they were eager to finally enter the finest magical institution. They gathered into small, lamp-lit rowboats resting in a dark-watered lake, and stared up to the great castle in awe. Aralynn, sitting between Harry and Ron, stared up at the magnificent building with gentle eyes. She was already in love. There it was—her greatest dream: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	7. The Lion Den

As the rowboats slowly drew closer and closer to the shore, Aralynn stared at the magnificence of her surroundings with excitement buzzing deep within the pit of her stomach. For so long she had merely dreamed of the day she would be able to enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time, and finally, after such yearning; that day was upon her.

Once the boats docked, the large and furry man who had retrieved them when they exited the train—Hagrid, according to Harry—had all of the first-year students congregate at the foot of their new school. Even as the crowd began to move, Aralynn lingered behind, taking a few moments to admire where she was—with the castle looming over her, handsome and wise.

It wasn't long before Ron and Harry realized she had strayed behind, and they quickly approached in order to redirect her to the proper path. Before she allowed her star-struck gaze to be broken, she rummaged through her robes and pulled out her camera. She took a step back and photographed the castle with a smile spreading across her face. It would make a fine addition to the scrapbook Ron gifted her for her birthday.

Shortly after Ron, Harry, and Aralynn rejoined the fold, they were stopped at the top of the stairs, just outside of the massive wooden double doors leading inside of the castle. The large man turned around, and smiled at all of the children who were staring up at him. "Sorry 'bout not introducin' meself before scoopin' ye up and takin' ye away," he said. Before speaking again, he cleared his throat—which rumbled into the darkness like thunder. "My name is Rubeus Hagrid, but ye wee ones can call me 'Hagrid'. Here at Hogwarts, I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. Now, before I take ya inside; I need t' remin' ye all to stay close, to each oth'r, understan'? Hogwarts is a righ' big place, and we needn't lose any of ya… on th' firs' day, no less! Stay close to each oth'r, ya got it?"

After the students nodded collectively, Hagrid returned a nod to them, then turned and pushed the double doors open to reveal the beautifully aged interior of the castle. They followed quickly behind him, staying tucked together in a close pack. As they ascended a staircase, Aralynn decided that photographs and articles from the Daily Prophet paid no true measure to the grandeur of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At the head of the staircase stood a black-haired woman with her lips pursed sternly and her arms folded on the inside of her robe sleeves. Hagrid gave a respectful nod to the woman before entering through another set of double doors. The fresh students stopped before the woman and stared at her uneasily; many wondering if they were facing certain doom.

The woman's green eyes flicked between each of the students' faces—her gaze seeming to linger on Harry Potter, and Aralynn Weasley for several moments longer than necessary. After a period of silence, she began to speak. "I am Minerva McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration, Head of the Transfiguration Department, and also Head of the Gryffindor House. Before you enter through these doors into the Great Hall, I will inform you of the four houses you have the possibility of being sorted into here at Hogwarts. There are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… and Slytherin. When you are sorted, your housemates will become your family while you are at Hogwarts. At the completion of each year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup. Each and every student possesses the ability to have points added or deducted from their house ledgers. Triumphs will earn points, and broken rules will lose points." Once Professor McGonagall stopped speaking, she looked the between students. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. I will see to the preparations, and will call you inside when we are ready. Remain here, and _behave_ yourselves."

Once Professor McGonagall had disappeared behind the doors, children took it upon themselves to introduce themselves to their peers in an attempt to make new friends. Aralynn continued to gawk at the castle, and used her camera to take photographs of every bit of the structure that she could. As she was photographing the ancient doors, she felt tapping on her shoulder. She turned toward the source, and came face-to-face with a fair-skinned boy whose white-blond hair was slicked back. She cocked a red eyebrow at him as she tucked her camera away for safety. "Can I help you?"

"Don't remember me, then, Weasley?" the boy asked, pompously.

Aralynn gave him a once-over. "Should I?"

His cold grey eyes narrowed at her. "We met once before," he informed. "At Madam Malkin's. I was with my father."

"Oh," Aralynn nodded. "That's right—you're… well, I can't really remember your name." Of course, Aralynn _did_ remember him. His name was Draco Malfoy, whom she had met simultaneously with his father, Lucius.

"Draco," he hissed. "Not hard to remember."

"Must not have been worth remembering."

Draco glowered at her, but his gaze soon shifted to Harry. He studied him, eyes falling upon the scar above the boy's eyebrow. "Well then, the rumors _are_ true. Harry Potter really has come to Hogwarts."

With the mention of Harry's name, the students quieted and began to whisper amongst themselves. There was a collective aura of awe at this new information coming to light. Harry, however, looked incredibly uncomfortable. He turned towards Draco, peering at me through his glasses. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

Draco held out a hand. "My name is Draco Malfoy." Harry, however, neglected to take his hand, much to Draco's indignation. He placed his hand back at his side. "Befriended the Weasleys, have you? A shame, really."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at Draco. "I'm sorry?"

"You'll soon come to learn that some wizarding families are… well, lower than others. The Weasleys here are disgraceful to pure-blood lineage. Best you surround yourself with _decent_ people, if you know what I mean. People like me."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. "I think I've found the decent people myself, thanks."

Anger split across Draco Malfoy's expression. "How dare you insult me!"

"If there _are_ any wizarding families lower than others, Draco, I would say that the Malfoys are at the bottom of the chain," Aralynn intervened, staring hard at the boy.

Draco took a step towards her. "What did you say to me, filthy peasant? You wait until my father hears about this. Your family will be ruined. With what is _left_ to be ruined, that is." He then scoffed. "I should put you in your place, you know."

Aralynn smiled bitterly at him. "Do tell—you conceited tosser."

For a moment, it looked as though Draco Malfoy was preparing strike Aralynn with his palm. However, he decided against it. Instead, he turned toward a few people who were standing behind him and muttered something about her parents. Aralynn then tapped on his shoulder, waiting patiently for him to turn around. When he did, she balled her fist, and cracked it against his jaw. The children around them gasped as he fell to the floor, with a hand cupping his nose. "You hit me!" he exclaimed, appalled.

"Yes," Aralynn nodded. "I did, and if you say another word about me or my family, I'll hit you again. Do you understand?"

Harry and Ron each grabbed onto one of Aralynn's arms and pulled her away from Draco. They then turned her toward them, with their arms crossed over their chest. "Bloody hell, Ara—that was _wicked_!" exclaimed Ronald.

Harry nodded. "Wicked," he agreed, "but dumb. You could have been expelled for that, and we haven't even started!"

Aralynn shrugged dismissively. "Luckily, no one was around. Besides, I don't suspect that Draco will be telling any of the professors about it."

"And why not?" Harry asked.

"I imagine that Draco Malfoy is the kind of person who would be incredibly embarrassed he was 'bested' by a girl. Which, he just was. Therefore, his shame will also equal his silence."

"Wicked," Ron said again with a grin. When Harry glared at him, he cleared his throat. "Ah—well—don't do it again!"

"Don't do what again?"

The three of them swung around in surprise to see Professor McGonagall watching them with austere eyes. While Harry and Ron fumbled over their words to try and think of an excuse, Aralynn smiled at the professor. "Don't try to wander off again," she lied. "I get curious."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips skeptically, but then turned to the whole group. "We're ready for you, now."

The group of first-year students followed Professor McGonagall as the double doors leading into the Great Hall opened before her. They moved inside of the room, which was far greater than its name could pay homage to. As they walked down a pathway between rows of tables on either side, Aralynn immediately pulled her camera out of her pocket to photograph every trivial detail she could. Toward the front of the room, behind a long table, was a massive window peering out onto the castle grounds. The ceiling appeared to be missing, and instead revealed the indigo sky with small, twinkling stars littered askew. As Aralynn studied the sky and wondered where the ceiling had gone, she heard Hermione Granger's voice explaining that it was—in fact—the ceiling, and was simply bewitched to resemble sky. A few meters below the ceiling levitated wax candles, which acted as a primary light source, but also a beautiful decorative touch. The paused just between a stool sitting on a raised platform where the buffet for the Hogwarts staff was placed. Atop the stool was an old, mangy, patched pointed hat.

Aralynn leaned over to her twin brother, and nudged him with her elbow. "Is it everything you hoped it would be, Ron?"

"Everything and more," Ron answered.

Aralynn glanced behind her shoulder, noticing her three elder brothers Percy, Fred, and George sitting together at one of the designated tables for the Gryffindor house. When they caught sight of her, they waved excitedly at her.

She returned her attention to Professor McGonagall when she cleared her throat. She held up a rolled parchment scroll for the students to see. "Now, on this scroll, you are all sorted alphabetically. When I call your name, you will approach the platform, and take a seat upon this stool. I place this upon your head, and you will be sorted into your designated houses." McGonagall then unraveled the scroll. "Now, let's begin… Hannah Abbott?"

As the blonde-haired girl approached the stool nervously, Aralynn turned towards Ron and Harry. "Any idea of the house you're hoping to be sorted into?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I'd be good with other than _Slytherin_ , but I am hoping for Gryffindor. Mum and Dad would be proud, I think."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Is there something with Slytherin?"

Aralynn looked to Harry. "No."

"Yes, there is!" Ron intervened. "Every witch and wizard who has ever gone bad were in Slytherin House."

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "I doubt that's true, and even if it were, that doesn't mean Slytherin, on principle, is a bad house. They have a bad reputation, but that doesn't mean every single person to ever be sorted there is evil, or dark. Don't let him scare you, Harry. Slytherins have nice traits, actually—ambition, cunning, self-preservation, and goal-oriented. What's wrong with that?"

Harry gave Aralynn a small, but timid smile. "Nothing, I suppose."

Aralynn nodded. "Exactly—nothing. So, there's no reason to be afraid." She then turned toward Ron. "You need to be more tolerant, Ronald."

"I'm just saying what I know."

"No, you're just saying what you _think_ you know. Just because people say awful things about Slytherin doesn't mean that any of it's true. In the letter that Charlie sent me for my birthday, he wrote: 'Slytherin is the House of Evil People, not the House of Evil,' and that's important to remember."

Ronald scrunched his face at her. "Yeah, alright."

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang.

Aralynn, Ron, and Harry turned toward the stool as Hermione approached the stool. She sat down, and appeared to be muttering to herself. McGonagall placed the ragged hat upon her head, and she jumped in surprise. The hat seemed to be moving, as though it were alive. Aralynn tilted her head and looked to Ron. "Fred and George have told us about the sorting process, haven't they? Isn't the hat alive?"

Ron shrugged. "In some sense, I guess. I know it talks to you, but only you can hear what it's saying. You don't even have to speak, but it can read your mind. The only time we hear it speak is when it announces the house. I guess we missed it, though… talking and whatnot."

Aralynn held up her hand and shushed Ronald before he could speak any further. Hermione gazed at the crowd nervously, and soon, the Sorting Hat bellowed: "Gryffindor!"

Hermione's Gryffindor housemates began to clap and cheer. She hopped down from the platform with a bright smile upon her face as she took her seat at her newly designated table. McGonagall then continued to read off of her list, and Ron turned to Aralynn. "Being sorted with her will be annoying. She's mental!"

Aralynn shook her head. "You're so judgmental, Ronald."

"Well, she _is_!" Ron exclaimed.

Aralynn waved her hand at him and turned a smile to Harry. She looked to the scar on his forehead before redirecting her attention to his face. "You don't know much about the Hogwarts houses, do you?"

Harry flashed a sheepish smile. "No, not really."

"Well, I've told you about Slytherin," Aralynn said with a nod. "There's also: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Our parents and brothers have all been sorted into Gryffindor, and the house prides itself on courage, strength, and chivalry. Hufflepuff is known for resourcefulness, loyalty, and patience. Then there's Ravenclaw… their students are always intelligent beyond compare—creative, and witty. Oh! I can tell you about the founders, too. Well, who they are, anyway. The houses are named after their founders, and the traits for each house are reflective of the founders, but also reflect the kind of people they admired most. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin."

Harry listened to her intently, smiling as she spoke. He nodded and took a deep breath. "It's all a bit overwhelming, you know? This is all new to me. I don't know anything about magic, or this school, or anything… I feel so behind."

Aralynn placed her hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "You'll learn, Harry. I mean, didn't your parents teach you about magic? Are they Muggles?"

Harry shook his head. "No, they aren't. At least—I don't think they were. I don't know much about them, either. They died when I was a baby. I was raised with my aunt and uncle—and they're Muggles. I guess they knew about me being magical, but they never told me. So, I didn't really have anyone to teach me."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Aralynn told him before smiling sympathetically. "Well, you'll have people to teach you now. The professors, and Ronald and I. That's something."

Harry smiled brightly at her. "Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she nodded. When McGonagall called out Harry's name, Aralynn squeezed his hand encouragingly. It felt as though electricity shot through their hands—there was a sort of familiarity in the touch, but she decided not to question it. "Good luck."

Harry grinned nervously at her before approaching the platform. Aralynn reached over and took Ron's hand, watching the hat move about as it spoke secretively to Harry, who looked even more nervous than he originally had. She looked at her brother, who was watching the hat as well. "What do you think it's saying?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. Guess we'll find out."

After a few more seconds, the Sorting Hat yelled "Gryffindor!" as its verdict. Aralynn let go of her brother's hand to clap her hands excitedly. She gave him an emboldened smile as he walked over to Gryffindor's seating area.

Fred and George stood from their seats, clapped their hands rhythmically, and chanted, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Ron and Aralynn Weasley eagerly waited for their names to be called by Professor McGonagall. When she finally finished with all students with last names starting with 'U,' Aralynn's name was the first to be called. She looked over to Ron nervously, and he reached out to give her hand a squeeze. She then approached the platform slowly; anxiously. She could feel the eyes of every single person in the Great Hall burning holes into her back. She turned towards the crowd and sat down hesitantly. Every single pair of eyes staring her down made her feel as though she were going to vomit. McGonagall placed the hat down upon Aralynn's head, but she couldn't hear anything. After a moment, however, she jumped when she heard the hat's thoughtful humming.

"Ah, yes… yes, much here—much to analyze," said the Sorting Hat. "Bright as a Ravenclaw… loyal as Hufflepuff… ambitious as a Slytherin—oh, and the nerve—the bounding heart! A perfect resemblance to Gryffindor! Ah, but the decision… the decision, as it is, is difficult. Perhaps the first student I've come across in a very long time to fit each house's qualifications. You have a great deal of talent, Miss Weasley—a long and troubled destiny ahead of you. I almost want to say that Ravenclaw would be the best fit for you, but no… no, I don't think I'll be putting you there…" For a long moment, the hat paused. "You have so much greatness, and I believe… yes, that'll be it." The Sorting Hat then went silent. Aralynn watched the crowd nervously, and then looked to Ron, who smiled at her. "Gryffindor!" the hat finally shouted, causing Aralynn to jerk in surprise.

McGonagall pulled the hat off of her head, and she moved to join Harry and her brothers at the table. When she sat down, Fred rustled her hair. "Hey, good job there, Little Red. Thought for a moment you were being sorted into Slytherin!"

George laughed. "Oh, Mum would've _loved_ that."

Harry looked at her from across the table. "What did it say?"

Aralynn shrugged her shoulders. "It almost sorted me into Ravenclaw, but it said that I was almost a perfect make-up of all the houses."

Percy looked over, eyebrow cocked. "Really?"

Aralynn glared at him briefly. "Don't be rude, Percy."

"Oh, oh—shut it!" Fred exclaimed. "I think Ron is about to get the decision."

"Oh, I hope he gets Hufflepuff," George said.

Fred laughed. "We'd never let him live it down!"

George smirked. "Never."

Ronald, however, was not sorted into Hufflepuff—like the rest of his siblings before him, including his parents, he was sorted into Gryffindor as well. He let out a massive sigh of relief, and then joined us at the table. "Bloody hell, that was terrifying."

Aralynn smiled proudly at her brother. "That's it, then. We're all lions now."

George learned over, smirking at his younger sister. "Yes, you are. Welcome to the lion den, little cubs."


	8. With Bitter Taste

As all the members of Gryffindor House, both returning and new, followed Percy Weasley to their Common Room; many of the first year and transfer students lingered behind the pack to gawk at the magnificent castle surrounding. It was quite large—even larger than it appeared to be from the tiny rowboats. No measure of recount, or photographs and wordy articles from the _Daily Prophet_ could truly capture the grandeur of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The stairs were built with beautiful, aging stone—the walls of the spiraling towers were methodically lined with large, intricately framed portraits of time passed; offsetting that extra sense of curiosity-inducing history to the atmosphere… portraits in which the paint moved, and had life. Many of the men and women portrayed in those pieces of art twiddled friendly fingers at the unfamiliar faces.

Harry Potter, while also stunned and awed, had still managed to notice that Aralynn had fallen behind. Once she realized that the shaggy-haired boy was striding at her side, she smiled softly at him. "Incredible, isn't it?" she asked, eyes skirting around. "I've known about magic my whole life. I've lived through trips to Diagon Alley, and listened to tales about Hogwarts, but I could ever picture a place this _truly_ beautiful and magical. Having been raised separate from the wizarding world—with Muggles—I can't imagine how this is for _you_."

"Oh, absolutely brilliant," answered Harry. "Bit intimidating and unbelievable, but brilliant."

"It _is_ intimidating, isn't it?" Aralynn laughed. "It is for me, too; even despite my comfort with magic. Could you ever have imagined a place like this existing? Of _magic_ existing?"

"Oh, never!" Harry exclaimed with a chuckle. "It's… quite amazing, really. When Hagrid first came to me and told me that I was a wizard… I didn't think it was real. I really thought it was a dream, even though I knew my imagination _definitely_ wasn't creative enough to develop… something like _this_."

"Hagrid told you?" Aralynn questioned, eyebrow cocked. "The large man from the rowboats?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Hagrid is great. Ah—I started receiving letters at home when holiday started. I didn't know who they were from, because I never got the chance to open them. My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia did everything they could to keep the letters away from me. It worked, but letters kept coming—more and more every time. It got so bad that Uncle Vernon took us to this rickety shack in the middle of the sea—thinking that no letters could be delivered there, especially since it was storming. Just after midnight, it was my eleventh birthday, and Hagrid broke down the door! Then he told me the truth—about me, and my parents… about my scar."

Aralynn was listening intently, and that was obvious. She had always been very fascinated to hear about the lives and pasts of others—it interested her. She enjoyed learning about people; reading them; studying their expressions and body language to figure out their character and personality. "When is your birthday?"

"The thirty-first of July," answered Harry.

"Merlin's beard!" Aralynn exclaimed. "You've had little over a month to learn about this? No wonder you feel so behind." She offered a sympathetic smile. "You shouldn't worry so much, Harry. I know this is… probably _extremely_ overwhelming for you, but you'll get the hang of it. Ron and I will be here to help you, and I'm sorry about any and all social attention you'll gain from your scar… from the truth about yourself. I can act as your bodyguard!"

Harry laughed. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I think I have a handle on things. It will be odd at first, but I'll grow used to it. What frightens me more is the _magic_! I'm very excited about it, but, I do feel like I'm lacking. I have so much to catch up on."

"We all do, really," Aralynn reassured. "We're all new to this, just like you. We can help each other—support each other. It's going to be okay."

After entering the Common Room, which was decorated with maroon and gold furniture, and was lit by the fire roaring in the fireplace, Harry and Aralynn shared a brief hug. "Thank you," Harry said to Aralynn before following his assigned dormmates up the boys' stairs.

Aralynn watched after Harry Potter, thinking about the peculiar scar on his head—about the identical one she had on hers. Why did they both have it? Why did she feel so connected with him? Thoughtfully, she sighed, and then brought her attention to Percy as he announced her bunkmates, and their assigned dormitory room. "Let's see," Percy began, clicking his tongue. "Ah, yes. Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Parvati Patil, and Aralynn Weasley."

The girls walked up their respective staircase, and into their assigned dormitory. Aralynn watched the girl with the bushy hair she, Ron, and Harry had met earlier on the train. It was clear to her that the girl—Hermione Granger—was feeling uncomfortable and out of place. She then decided to march right up to the girl and befriend her. After all, Harry and Ron had been giving her the cold shoulder. She didn't deserve it. "Hello!" Aralynn greeted brightly, offering her hand to the girl. "My name is Aralynn Weasley. I believe we met on the train, briefly?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied with an awkward grin. "You were with your brother—the one with dirt on his nose, and Harry Potter. My name is Hermione Granger." She then took Aralynn's hand and shook it. Aralynn noted that her grip seemed to relax slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you, too," Aralynn responded with a nod. "I overheard you talking in the Great Hall—about all that you've read and learned; that you've practiced spells already."

Slowly, Hermione nodded. It was clear that she was proud, but also wary of being insulted for her obvious intelligence. Aralynn had no such plans—in fact, she admired Hermione for this. "That's wonderful," the redhead told the other. "You value learning… I do, too."

The assurance brought a bright and toothy smile to Hermione Granger's face. "Oh, isn't it wonderful? There is so much in the world to read about and experience. I absolutely adore it… Have you skimmed through any of the textbooks yet?"

"A bit," answered Aralynn with a short shrug. "It can be somewhat difficult to get reading done at home… lots of chaos."

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?"

Aralynn felt blood rushing to her ears. She half expected the girl to insult the family… many people did. Silently and cautiously, she nodded.

Hermione grinned. "I noticed a few of your siblings in the Common Room earlier. There are quite a lot of you. Is it nice to have siblings?"

"Do you not?"

The girl shook her head, somewhat glumly. "I'm an only child. My parents are Muggles. They're dentists."

Aralynn nodded, but she wasn't quite sure what a 'dentist' was. Still yet, she wanted Hermione to know that she was listening and following their conversation. "Oh—by the way, I wanted to apologize for the way my brother, Ron, acted on the train. He wasn't particularly kind."

Hermione shrugged, but with a soft smile on her face. "I appreciate the apology, but that's quite alright. I know I can be a bit… abrasive… at times."

"That doesn't mean you deserve to be treated rudely."

The girl nodded, lurching forward at sudden to give Aralynn a hug. Then she stepped back, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered. "You're the first person who's really… been kind to me tonight."

Aralynn beamed at her. "You're more than welcome, Hermione. It's getting a bit late, though. We should head to bed. I'll see you in class."

Hermione wished Aralynn a good night, and the two both crawled into their four-poster beds, and quickly drifted into a peaceful slumber. Well, for Aralynn, the peace was short-lived. She had had a strange dream—which pertained to nothing in particular, it seemed. It was simply a blinding flash of green light, underlaid with screaming. Even a dream, or rather nightmare, so simple jolted her awake. After catching her breath, she had instinctively touched her scar.

Why? She didn't know.

* * *

The first morning of classes was rough. Aralynn hadn't slept well at all and kept stirring awake all night. Her nightmares had all been the same—that green light and awful screaming. It wasn't a dream that Aralynn had ever had before, and she wasn't entirely sure what it meant. All she knew was that, for reasons unknown, it made her tremble with fear.

While history would have otherwise fascinated her; she found it exceedingly difficult to sit through History of Magic, as taught by the ghostly (literally, not figuratively) Professor Binns. Though she would be ashamed to admit it, she fell asleep several times. The rest of her classes seemed to go smoothly. Professor McGonagall had given Aralynn and Hermione a rare smile when they both had managed to transfigure their matchsticks into shiny, silver needles. The last class of the day was Potions with Professor Severus Snape. Aralynn had been walking throughout the corridors alone when she spotted Harry and Ron, and jogged to catch up with them. She had joined in the middle of a conversation.

"Percy told me that Professor Snape wants Professor Quirrell's position to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Harry.

"I've heard loads about Snape," Ron replied.

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Oh, just that he's dead awful."

Harry's face paled. "What do you mean?"

"People say he's cruel," Aralynn intervened, surprising both boys. "Fred and George say he hates all of his students."

Ron nodded. "And that he's… well, a bit dodgy."

For a moment, Harry looked as though he was going to be sick. "I saw him in the Great Hall. He looked at me, and… for some reason, my scar started hurting. I wonder what that means?"

"Can't be anything good," Ron said.

This obviously frightened Harry a bit, and Aralynn stuck her elbow into Ron's ribcage. Ignoring her brother's yelps, she shoved herself between the boys and smiled at Harry. "Try not to worry. I'm sure Professor Snape isn't as horrible as people say. Fred and George aren't exactly the most reliable sources of information, anyway."

As soon as they entered the Potions classroom, Aralynn immediately regretted her reassuring words. Professor Snape wasn't as awful as people said—he was _worse_. There wasn't a single student he seemed to be kind to, except perhaps the Slytherins. Which, Aralynn thought, was typical. Professor Snape _was_ the Head of Slytherin House, after all. Of course, he was partial.

In the classroom, Aralynn took a seat next to Hermione, who had eagerly taken out her _Magical Drafts and Potions_ textbook, opening to the first page. The professor of the classroom entered the room with a slam of the door—he was slender with long, greasy black hair and sallow skin. He wore robes as black as night, which bellowed behind him as he swept swiftly to the head of the room. He looked around the room with his dark eyes, seeming to glower at each of the students. His disdain for the children was already quite apparent.

Professor Snape had started the class by taking roll call, reading over each student's name with a voice thick and crawling like tar. The call was taken quickly and fashionably, until the man paused with his eyes lingering over one name in particular. "Harry Potter," he said, lifting his head to stare at the boy menacingly. "Hogwarts' newest celebrity. How _pleased_ we are to have you grace us with your presence."

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable. It seemed that Professor Snape was singling him out, but his expression stated clearly that he didn't know why. Yes, for all intents and purposes, he was 'famous…' but why did this man seem to hate him so? For little more than a name and a scar?

"In this class, you will learn to make several drafts and potions. This is a magic so subtle… so artistic… it hardly seems to be magic at all. Yet, I assure you, it is one of the most powerful and valuable abilities you could possess. Potionmaking requires quite a hefty skillset. Here, I can teach you many things… many things behind liquid that can bring life, or usher death. That is, so long as you're not incompetent oafs. Not that I have much faith in that… most students I have taught throughout the years were completely inadequate. I don't expect you lot will be any different."

Aralynn blinked uneasily. There was a certain desire lingering in the classroom to prove to Professor Snape that the students were fresh and eager to learn. They wanted to show their worth—to assure him that they weren't dunderheads. Unfortunately, the execution of that seemed impossible. He was quite sure that they would fail.

The man swept around the classroom, looking between each of the students' faces. As he passed by Hermione and Aralynn, his confident step faltered and his eyes focused on Aralynn. The hardness in his black, tunneling eyes seemed to soften. As Aralynn looked back at her professor, she noticed something of sorrow and longing in his expression. This, however, quickly abated and he turned sharply, eyes on the back of Harry's head.

"Potter!" he shouted, moving around to stand before him. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked lost. Obviously, he wasn't going to know the answer—he had never had any sort of magical upbringing. Sure, he had textbooks, but if his aunt and uncle were as awful as he claimed them to be; would he had even had the opportunity to skim through the texts before now? Awkwardly, he started to open the textbook before him, but Snape smacked the tip of his wand down on the cover. Harry quickly withdrew his hands.

Snape sneered, looking triumphant. "No answer?"

Harry remained silent. Snape clicked his tongue at him.

"One more shot," he said. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Aralynn had only now noticed that Hermione had her arm outstretched as far as possible. She was nearly climbing atop her seat, trying to get the attention of their professor. Snape, however, while completely aware of her—was ignoring her. His sights were fixed tightly on Harry.

After a moment, Harry cleared his throat. "I-I don't know, sir."

Once again, Snape looked pleased. "Did you not think it imperative to study before the term?" he snapped. "No, of course you didn't. Why should you? The famous Harry Potter—well, thought he could just slide through his classes and exams on sheer luck, couldn't he? Why, he had done so before with the Dark Lord. Why not a bit of parchment?"

Harry was appalled. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was quickly cut off when Snape began explaining the answers to the questions he had asked. He then decided to take a point from Gryffindor, simply for Harry's audacity to try and 'give cheek.'

The class ended with several more points taken from Gryffindor after Snape had paired them to brew a potion to cure boils. The Gryffindor students exiting the classroom looked extremely put off, and hung their heads unconfidently. Aralynn shuffled past Neville Longbottom, who was covered in boils and groaning as he headed for the Hospital Wing. She wished him a speedy recovery, and moved to Harry's side. "I would like to formally apologize for trying to tell you that Snape wasn't awful."

Harry laughed, but it was halfhearted. "You didn't know."

"Still, I tried to make you feel better. I think I might've set you up for failure there. He was worse than anyone made him seem. I could hardly believe it."

"How would you know?" Ron jeered. "He wasn't rude to you. He was actually pretty _nice_ , if you ask me. He actually _helped_ you. Playing favorites already!"

Aralynn glared at Ron. "Don't blame me," she hissed. "I don't know why he seemed to be a little more lenient with me. Maybe I showed promise!"

Ron sniggered. "Don't be thick. Out of everyone in the class, Hermione showed the most 'promise,' and he didn't like her, either."

Aralynn heated with anger. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That Hermione is smarter than you."

Aralynn smacked the back of Ron's head with her _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ textbook, weaving throughout students in the corridors as she stomped away.

* * *

At supper, Aralynn made sure to sit as far from Ron as possible. She felt somewhat guilty, as she wasn't trying to punish Harry, but she knew that they had become quite close very quickly. Instead of sitting with the boys, she sat with Hermione, and listened to her excited chatter about their classes. Somehow, she had even managed to muster enthusiasm for Professor Snape's class. Normally, Aralynn wouldn't have minded Hermione's fast-paced talk about all that she learned, and what she wanted to learn more about, but Ron's previous comment still had her irate. Sure, Hermione was definitely brighter than her, but the way Ron had said it was quite disparaging. The brunette seemed to notice Aralynn's angry silence.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Peachy," answered Aralynn.

Hermione closed her textbook and turned towards Aralynn. It was clear she meant business. "You haven't said a word, and you've been completely ignoring your treacle tart. What's on your mind?"

Aralynn proceeded to explain what Ron had said after their Potions class, and Hermione looked just as angry as she felt. "How rude!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I'm smarter than you, Aralynn. I can't believe he would say something like that. Sure, Snape was a bit softer with you, but why should that be a bad thing?"

"Ron says he's favoriting me," said Aralynn.

Hermione shook her head. "Nonsense. Maybe you just happened to annoy him the least."

"Maybe."

* * *

After the feast, Aralynn followed behind Harry and Ron once she noticed that they weren't heading back to the Common Room. They crossed the grounds and headed to a shabby hut standing just before the tree-line of the Forbidden Forest. The very large and bearded man who had greeted them at the boats on the lake when they arrived at Hogwarts threw the hut's door open, and welcomed the boys. He eagerly waved them inside, and Aralynn slipped in right after.

When Ron noticed that she had accompanied them, he narrowed his eyes. "Nobody invited _you_ ," he said.

"Nonsense!" bellowed Hagrid. He was staring at Aralynn admiringly, looking as though he were about to cry. The great man sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with a nasty handkerchief. "Aralynn's always welcome here."

While she wasn't sure how Hagrid already knew her, she gave her brother a taunting sniff and moved to sit down near Harry. The large man was moving around the hut, preparing tea and plating snacks. "Glad ya got the chance ter visit," he said. "Been wond'rin how yer classes have been goin'. All's well, I hope?"

"Well enough," Harry replied, taking a cup of tea from Hagrid when he offered it.

"Summat seem ter be botherin' ye," Hagrid pointed out. "Not likin' a class?"

"Potions," Harry said. "Professor Snape _hates_ me."

"Codswallop!" exclaimed the giant. "Ain't got no reason ter hate ya, Harry."

"He _does_ , though."

Aralynn showed Hagrid a slight smile. "He _is_ a bit cruel."

Hagrid huffed. "Snape's never been the nicest feller, but he's a Hogwarts teacher, nonetheless. He don' hate you."

"Seems to," muttered Harry. Ron was still glowering at Aralynn.

Hagrid waved his hand at Harry. "How 'bout you two?" he asked, looking between the Weasleys. "How're yer classes goin'?"

"Well," Aralynn answered with a smile. "They're interesting."

"Snape _likes_ her," Ron hissed. "Hates the rest of us, but likes her. He was nice to her."

Hagrid grumbled. "Fer the last time, Snape don' hate none of his students! He just ain't very… affectionate s'all. Besides, why wouldn' Snape like Aralynn? He's got good reason ter like her!"

This took Aralynn aback. What was that supposed to mean? Snape and Aralynn had just met, why would he have had good reason to like her? "What d'you mean, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked puzzled. "Well… er, I mean—yer a nice girl, right? Bright student? That's plenty o' reason."

There was something Hagrid knew that Aralynn didn't.


	9. Secret Dogs, Secret Doors

For the next several weeks, Aralynn could not manage to pull herself from her own head. What Hagrid had said about Professor Snape having good reason to like her wouldn't stop turning over and over in her mind. It was clear that the people around her knew more about her than she did. Throughout the years, she _had_ always felt as though there was _something_ about her that she didn't quite understand—something she was missing. She had never felt whole; not even on her greatest days. No matter how hard she tried to ignore that feeling—overlook it—she was always unable to. It would never stop nagging at her; hiding in the back of her head. Why was this feeling so overpowering? Why did she always feel as though she were _wrong_? That something _about_ her was wrong? Aralynn knew who she was… didn't she?

It was hard for her to focus on her classes, but she had still somehow managed to maintain relatively good marks. Hermione was still raging in the primary spot as the top of their class. Aralynn was proud of her for that, but disappointed in herself. She had managed to fall so behind simply because she couldn't focus. Simply because there were words people had said that she couldn't stop thinking about. Realistically, these words probably held no stock, but they still refused to go away. They were relentless; unyielding.

Aralynn and Ron had since forgiven each other for their unfriendly behavior and resumed the close relationship that, as twins, they were meant to have. It was only when Aralynn overheard Ron and Harry's conversation during supper one night that she truly came back to reality.

"—Hagrid and I were there earlier that day… in that _same_ vault," said Harry.

"I wonder what could have been in there," Ron replied, itching his head thoughtfully. "Who would want to steal something from a vault that was already empty?"

Aralynn excused herself from Hermione and scooted closer to Harry and Ron. "What's going on?" she asked. "What are you two talking about? Something about a vault?"

Harry nodded, a bit eagerly. "When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley on my birthday, we visited a vault at Gringotts. Hagrid wouldn't tell me what it was that was in there. All he said that it was 'official Hogwarts business' and that it was 'very serious.' Obviously, it was meant to be kept a secret. Whatever it was, it was in a very small parcel, and it was heavily protected. When we went to Hagrid's a few weeks back, I saw an article from the _Daily Prophet_. A vault at Gringotts was broken into, and it was the _same_ vault we went to earlier _that_ _day_! Whoever went there was trying to find whatever Hagrid took…"

Aralynn listened attentively to Harry. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Gringotts is protected by incredibly powerful magic," she said. " _Nobody_ has ever been able to break into those vaults. Only someone who possessed unimaginable power would have been able to do that."

"A _seriously_ dark wizard," Ron agreed.

"I wonder what it was," Harry wondered longingly.

Aralynn shrugged. "Well, whatever it was; it's safe here now. It's at Hogwarts, and it's under Professor Dumbledore's protection. I don't think it's something that needs to be worried about anymore."

Harry had an unconvinced frown on his face. "I dunno. Maybe not."

* * *

That afternoon was their first flying lesson with Madam Hooch. The participating students were jittering with excitement and chatting exuberantly amongst themselves. Given that the students were born with at least one magical parent, the chances were good that they had flown before. Aralynn and Ron both had, but Aralynn had no doubt that Hermione and Harry were both anxious. Hermione was Muggleborn, and Harry had been raised with a Muggle family. Surely, they had never even thought of riding a broom before reading or learning about it from their friends and professors.

Madam Hooch was a fierce looking woman with spiky grey hair and yellow eyes that reminded Aralynn of a hawk. She approached the students, looking between them. She nodded. "Each of you, step up to your brooms," she ordered.

The brooms were lined up, split into two columns, and were several feet apart. Each student stepped up to their respective brooms, now looking nervous rather than excited. Aralynn looked down at the knobby training broom, and studied the skewed sticks at the bottom. She figured that it wouldn't be too hard for her to manage this broom. The brooms that her mother and father had been able to provide for them—which they were all very grateful for—looked about the same, maybe worse. While she might have been able to get the brooms at home into her hand; she was unsure of her capabilities at this moment. More than anything, she was afraid of embarrassing herself. She shouldn't have been—they were all inexperienced. Yet, there was this unusual desire blazing inside of her for her to be able to prove herself.

"Right," began Madam Hooch. "Now, place your hands over your brooms. With force, I want you to call the broom into your hand with a simple: 'Up!'"

The children looked between one another warily but followed Madam Hooch's instruction. Aralynn looked down at her broom, trying to focus all of her energy into pulling it into her hand. Filling herself with intent, she inhaled, and stated, "Up!"

Simultaneously, Harry and Aralynn's brooms immediately shot into their hands. They looked at one another, then looked back to their brooms. Clearly, they were both extremely shocked. How could this happen; so quickly and naturally? Aralynn couldn't remember this happening any other time she had ridden a broom.

 _Great_ , Aralynn thought. _Another unanswered question_.

Once the rest of the students had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch gave them further instruction to mount them, lean forward slightly, hover, and then come back down. The students had less issue with this, but Harry, Aralynn, and Draco Malfoy had gotten up the easiest. They eased their brooms back down… all of them aside for Neville Longbottom. On the other hand, Neville seemed to have lost all control of his broom. He kept rising higher and higher, until he had tilted off the side and came plummeting back down.

Madam Hooch swept over to Neville, examined him, and gave a few tuts. "Stay perfectly still as I escort Mister Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. If _any_ of you even _dare_ to pick up these brooms and mount them, you will be removed from Hogwarts _immediately_."

Then, she walked off with a hand dragging Neville along by his elbow.

Aralynn shuffled over to Harry and Ron, shaking her head. "Poor Neville."

"Yeah," Ron said with a shake of his head. "Useless, that one."

"That's rude," Aralynn hissed. "He's new, and he's learning. Don't act superior."

Ron rolled his eyes, but proceeded to shut his mouth. One argument Ron knew he would never win was when Aralynn adamantly determined that people deserved the benefit of the doubt. "Well, anyway," Ron grumbled. "How is it, Harry? Y'know, starting to fly?"

"Brilliant," answered Harry with a smile. "Feels natural."

"Your broom came to you really quickly," Ron told him. "You _must_ be a natural!"

"I… guess I am," Harry replied humbly.

"You have incredible control for someone who's never flown before," Aralynn told him. "Hey, maybe you could try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team next year!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What's Quidditch?"

Ron looked offended, until he realized that Harry was new to the wizarding world. "It's a very famous and popular wizarding sport."

"Teams have seven players," Aralynn added. "A Seeker, two Beaters, three Chasers, and one Keeper."

"Just so you know—the Chudley Cannons are the _best_ Quidditch team," said Ron.

Aralynn leaned over to Harry, whispering: "No, they aren't."

Harry grinned at Aralynn. "Well, how do you _play_ Quidditch?"

"It's all in the air," Ron told him. "There are three goals on each side of a Quidditch pitch, and the teams try to score on each other."

"Kind of like football," Harry nodded.

"Like _what_?"

Harry shook his head. "Nevermind. Go on."

"A game is won when a Seeker catches the Golden Snitch. The Snitch gives the catching team one-hundred-and-fifty points."

Aralynn nodded. "If the Snitch is never caught, the game can go on for _ages_."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but his attention was caught by the rest of the class congregated together. "What's going on over there?"

Ron, Aralynn, and Harry wandered over to the crowd. Aralynn stopped at Hermione's side, looking at her. "What's going on, Hermione?"

"Do you remember when Neville received a parcel from his grandmother with a Remembrall in it?"

Aralynn nodded.

Hermione sighed. "Well, it seems that it had fallen out of his robes when he fell. Draco found it."

Aralynn's attention was caught by Harry marching straight over to Draco, who was flaunting his newfound find. "What an idiot," said Draco. "Can't keep track of anything, can he? Has he lost that stupid frog again yet?"

"Give it to me, Malfoy," said Harry sternly. He held out his hand, waiting for Draco to place the Remembrall in his palm.

Draco scoffed. "No," he said simply. "Perhaps Longbottom would have remembered to fall on his fat ass if he could ever keep his head on straight. You know what? I think I'll leave it somewhere for him find. How about on the roof?" He mounted his broom, flying around the crowd. "What d'you think, Potter? Think he'll _remember_ it's gone?"

"Malfoy, if you don't give me the Remembrall, I'll come up there and knock you off of your broom!" Harry hissed, preparing to mount his broom as well.

Hermione, Ron, and Aralynn strode over to Harry. "Careful," Aralynn warned.

Draco sniggered. "Well, if you're going to act like _that_. Fetch!" He then threw the Remembrall with full force towards the castle.

Harry mounted the broom, flying into the air after Neville's trinket.

"Harry!" Hermione called. "You'll be _expelled_!"

Aralynn went to mount her broom as well to go after the Remembrall with Harry, but she was stopped by Hermione. "Don't," she hissed. "Don't _you_ be a fool, too."

Per Hermione's insistence, Aralynn remained on the ground with the rest of the crowd. They collectively watched as Harry darted on his broom towards the castle. Just as he was about to crash into the wall, he took hold of the Remembrall, flipped in the air, and steadied himself back. Even from the ground, it was obvious that he was sporting a satisfied grin. He came flying back down, triumphantly waving the marble-sized ball in the air. "I've got it!"

The students rushed Harry, lifting him into the air briefly once he landed. "That was _incredibly_ stupid!" Hermione told him.

"But brave," Aralynn interjected, smiling at Harry.

Hermione glared at Aralynn, but there was a small smile peeking at her lips.

The cheer was suddenly disrupted when Professor McGonagall strode over. Her lips were pursed sternly, and her eyes seemed to be blazing with fury. "Harry Potter!" she shouted. "Come with me, _now_."

Harry went pale and swallowed the lump in his throat. He handed the Remembrall to Aralynn. "Be sure to give that to Neville," he muttered to her before following behind Professor McGonagall.

Ron stopped at Aralynn's side, frowning. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "He's doomed."

* * *

When Madam Hooch returned and was told about the situation that arose between Draco and Harry, and about Harry being escorted away by Professor McGonagall, class was ended abruptly. She assured them that their flying lessons would resume once the students learned to behave and follow instruction. Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione strode through the corridors. There was a significant amount of time before their next class, and they decided to discuss what would become of Harry instead.

"He's going to be expelled for _sure_ ," said Hermione. "There's no way he'll get away with that."

"McGonagall would be _mad_ to expel him," argued Ron. "He's _Harry Potter_. He's the Boy Who Lived against You-Know-Who. She can't just expel him."

"She can!" Hermione shouted. "He broke the _rules_."

Aralynn shook her head. "There's no sense in arguing about whether or Harry should or can be expelled. We should be hoping that he isn't. Harry deserves to be a Hogwarts with the rest of us."

They roamed through the corridors for some time before Harry finally rejoined them. Instead of looking downtrodden, he was quite cheerful. The three stared at him, expecting some kind of explanation, but he seemed too distracted by his own thoughts.

Hermione finally decided to garner his attention. "You seem rather cheery for someone who was likely expelled."

"Oh," Harry blinked, shaking his head. "No, I wasn't expelled."

"What happened then?" asked Aralynn.

"I'm on the Quidditch team!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm the new _Seeker_!"

"What?" Ron questioned incredulously. "First-years _never_ make the team. They _never_ pass tryouts!"

Harry shrugged, but was still giddy. "McGonagall said my skills were quite notable."

Aralynn tilted her head. "You must be the youngest Seeker in…"

"—A century," Harry nodded, smiling brightly.

They were soon joined by Fred and George, who slapped Harry on the back.

"Congrats, Potter!" exclaimed George.

"Wood just announced it to the team!" added Fred.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Aralynn and Ron.

"They're on the team, too," said Aralynn.

"Beaters," nodded Ron.

"A Beater's job is to make sure none of the players get roughed up too badly or knocked off their brooms!" said Fred.

"No guarantees," added George. "Quidditch is a _brutal_ game."

Fred nodded. "Rough, but no worries—nobody has died in a _long_ time."

The elder Weasley twins wandered away, leaving Harry looking soberer than he had before. His face had been flushed of color.

Aralynn placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry. You'll be great."

"What if I'm not?" Harry countered. "I mean, I'm new to flying, and I've never played Quidditch before. I could be rubbish! I could lose all the games!"

"You won't," said Hermione. "Quidditch talent is in your blood."

Ron jerked his attention to Hermione. "She knows more about us than _we_ do."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Follow me."

Harry and the Weasley twins followed Hermione through the corridors. She was walking with such a sure step in her foot that she was going much faster than they were. They were jogging to catch up to her. Abruptly, Hermione had stopped outside of a showcase. They three blundered into the back of her, having not expected her to pause.

Hermione waved her arm to the showcase. "Look."

The three peered into the showcase, which housed Quidditch trophies throughout the years. One plaque, in particular, had the name of Harry's father engraved on the shield-shaped gold.

 _James Potter. Chaser._

Ron gaped. "How come you never told us that your father was a Chaser, Harry?"

Aralynn glared at Ron. "He didn't _know_."

Harry was shaking his head. "I can't believe this. I _am_ a natural."

"You'll be great at Quidditch, Harry," said Hermione. "So long as you don't get yourself expelled."

Aralynn looked upon Harry's face, who was now smiling. It was more of a sorrowful smile than a joyful one. It had to be hard for him to learn things piece by piece about his parents, instead of already knowing it. He had never had the opportunity to learn who his parents were, and what they did while at Hogwarts. She could tell that he was proud to be following in his father's footsteps but dispirited that he couldn't share the news.

* * *

After finishing their classes for the day, the four regrouped in the corridors. It was getting late, and they would need to be heading back to their dormitories soon. They shared what they had learned from their professors. Hermione was talking the most eagerly about their curriculum. She was clearly enjoying Hogwarts far more than the rest of them. Perhaps Aralynn, too, would have been equally as enthusiastic about their coursework… if she hadn't spent the entire semester distracted by her own questions, and by the words of people who seemed to know her more than she did. She was talking animatedly about Charms while they walked up one of the staircases.

"—Professor Flitwick's lessons are truly incredible. He's an amazing professor, really. I think I've learned the most from that class than any others. We'll be learning the levitation charm soon; did you guys know that? Within the next few weeks, I've heard. I've been talking with Professor Flitwick privately about advanced lessons. He said he would consider teaching me more next year, but I told him I've been studying on my own, too. He was quite proud. He said that I'm one of the most promising first-year students, along with Aralynn, of course. Oh! I told him that I've learned a rather advanced charm, the—"

Hermione suddenly went quiet when the staircase jerked from its position. It began to shift away from the landing they needed to step off on to get back to their dormitories. The four of them latched onto the railings. "What's going on?" Ron asked.

"The staircase is moving," said Aralynn. "They change, remember?"

Once the staircase came to a stop, Harry exhaled a short breath. "Let's get off before they decide to move again."

They hurried off of the staircase, shaking off the brief fear that they had felt when it had unexpectedly soared away. They opened the door before them, entering an unlit room. They looked around, trying to peer through the darkness. "Where are we?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Ron. "I'm getting a weird feeling, though."

"Like we're not supposed to be here," added Aralynn.

"This is the third floor," said Hermione. "We're _not_ supposed to be here. It's _forbidden_. Oh, we need to get out of here before we get expelled!"

Aralynn had her eyes locked on something down the corridor. She swallowed hard, tapping the three others a couple of times. "We _might_ get expelled," she told them. When they looked at her, she pointed down the corridor, where a pair of yellow lamp-like eyes sat, staring them down. A flame burst alive to reveal that the eyes were owned by a cat, who sat there flicking its tail back and forth. The cat stood, beginning to meow loudly.

"It's Mrs. Norris!" Ron hissed. "We have to get out of here, before Filch comes!"

Harry tugged on the sleeves of their robes. "Run!"

The three of them took off toward the opposite end of the corridor, running as fast as their legs would allow. They rammed into a door at the end of the hall. Ron desperately fidgeted with the handle, but it wouldn't open. "It's locked!"

Aralynn looked to Hermione. " _Standard Book of Spells_ ," she said to her. "Chapter seven!"

Suddenly, Hermione perked up. She shoved her way between the boys, waving her wand at the handle. " _Alohomora_ ," she whispered. She opened the door and the three of them shoved inside. They carefully closed the door behind them, holding their breaths as they heard Filch's footsteps lingering around the door.

"Did you see someone, Mrs. Norris?" he asked the cat, who mewled back. "Let's see if they've gone this way."

Once the footsteps faded away, they exhaled sharply, feeling relieved. Aralynn pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. "That was _close_."

Hermione nodded. " _Too_ close."

"We have to get out of here before Filch circles back," Harry said. "We have to get back to the dormitories. Thankfully he didn't look here. He thinks the door is still locked. Why was it locked?"

Ron gulped and raised a shaky hand. " _That's why_."

Harry, Hermione, and Aralynn turned away from the door to see whatever it was that Ron was pointing at. Once they turned, their eyes traveled upwards to see three massive dog heads. They were paralyzed with fear, and even more so when they realize the three heads were attached to _one_ body. The heads bared their teeth, beginning to growl. Finally realizing what was before them, they began to scream. Aralynn jerked the door open and the four went toddling out when the dog's heads began snapping at them. They collectively used their weight to shove the door back until it locked once more.

Again, they took off at a run. They ran down the corridor, back to the staircases, and navigated the halls until they found their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. They hurried through the portrait hole before they could stop the catch their breaths. "Bloody _hell_!" Ron exclaimed. "Are these people mad!? Keeping a monster like _that_ locked in a _school_ … a school with _children_!"

Aralynn leaned forward, placing her palms on her knees. She heaved in desperate breaths of fresh air. "It wasn't there for no reason," she told him. "It's a guard dog."

"Guard dog?" Harry questioned.

"It was standing on a door," Hermione added with a nod. "It was protecting something."

"How did you _notice_?" asked Ron, exasperated. "I was a little preoccupied looking at its _heads_!"

Hermione glowered at him. "It's not _my_ fault you're oblivious!" She straightened her robes and marched up the staircase to the dormitories. "I'm going to bed before you two get us killed! Or _expelled_!"

Aralynn coughed through her lack of breath. She stood straight and smiled at the boys. "Don't mind her. She's really concerned with her education." She turned her back, following Hermione into their dormitory. The two didn't speak, but Hermione was muttering angrily under her breath while she changed into her nightwear. Aralynn changed but couldn't manage to fall asleep. Instead, she sat in the sill of the window, looking out onto Hogwarts's grounds as ran flooded the grass.

She brought her knees up to her chest, thinking back to the three-headed dog and the trapdoor it was standing on. She wondered what was so important that it needed to be protected by such a beast. Then she thought about the vault that Harry had mentioned. It had been broken into _after_ it had already been emptied. Could the item in the vault have been what the dog was guarding?


	10. A Halloween Troll

Since the incident with the three-headed dog, Hermione hadn't stopped talking about it. She unfailingly investigated what it could possibly be guarding, and why such a valuable item would be hidden at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to begin with. Aralynn listened eagerly to her thoughts but said nothing. She wasn't sure if she wanted to offer her theories. Not because she wanted to keep them to herself, but because she didn't want to make a fool of herself by suggesting a dead-end theory. Harry and Ron didn't seem to be quite as interested in what could be hidden under the trapdoor. Ron was too preoccupied with the thought of Halloween. He was constantly going on about the upcoming feast and the candy that would come with it. It was uncertain where Harry's mind was, but it surely wasn't with the rest of them.

As they walked to their Charms class together, Hermione told them all about the charm Professor Flitwick told her that they would be learning about. "It's the levitation charm," she told them. "I mentioned it a few weeks ago. We're _finally_ learning it. Aren't you excited?"

"Oh, bursting at the seams," Ron said sarcastically. "It's just another charm, Hermione. How excited can you _really_ be?"

Hermione blistered. "Exceedingly excited, considering I happen to value my education."

Ron rolled his eyes. "We get it, Hermione—you're smart. There's no need to rub everyone's nose in it."

Aralynn lodged her elbow into Ron's side. "She's _not_ rubbing our noses in it, Ronald. She's simply excited to learn more. There's nothing wrong with being excited about classes."

Hermione offered Aralynn a small smile. "Thank you."

The redhead gleamed at her friend, shuffling through the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom. She took her seat next to Harry. She placed her _Standard Book of Spells_ textbook on the table before her, waiting for the professor to begin his lecture. Harry seemed somewhere far away. Aralynn eyed him. "You okay, Harry?"

Harry jerked his attention over. "Oh, yeah," he told her. "I'm alright. Just thinking about that dog. You and Hermione said that it was guarding something, but I can't help but wonder _what_ it's guarding."

Aralynn bit her lip. "I have a theory."

His attention was focused on her now. "What's your theory, Aralynn?"

"You mentioned that Hagrid picked something up from a vault at Gringotts when he took you to Diagon Alley," she began. "He said that it was important, and then… someone broke into that same vault—after it was already emptied. Someone _really_ wanted it. Maybe _that's_ what the dog is guarding."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, turning Aralynn's words over in his head. "It's a fair theory. You could be right."

Professor Flitwick, a very short man, climbed atop a large stack of books he had piled on top of his desk. "Attention, class!" he called out. He waited for the students to settle. "Today we will be learning the levitation charm. We've been practicing the precise wrist movement these past few weeks, and today we'll be attempting the spell itself. Now, remember—swish, and _flick_. Go on."

Aralynn picked up her willow wood wand, following the swish-and-flick movement the professor had ordered them to practice. He noted Hermione and Aralynn's smooth actions, asking the rest of the students to follow their example. Aralynn blushed.

"Don't forget to enunciate _very_ clearly. There is no room for error when it comes to charms," said Flitwick. "Say it with me: _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

The students repeated the incantation with him several times. "Very nice, now try to make the feathers before you levitate. Remember: _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Before Aralynn could speak the incantation, her eyes were drawn to Ron. He was almost smacking the feather with his wand. " _Wingardrium Leviosar_!"

Hermione grabbed his wrist. "Swish and _flick_ , Ronald. If you keep waving your wand like that, you're going to poke someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it _wrong_. It's _Wingardium Leviosa_ , it's not _Wingardrium Leviosar_."

Ron scowled at her. "You're so full of yourself," he grumbled. "If you think you're _so_ smart and clever, why don't _you_ do it? I bet you think you're the only one who could."

"No," Hermione said, smiling over at Aralynn. "I'm sure she could, too."

Aralynn stammered over her words, trying to express that she really wasn't sure she'd be capable. She knew that she was bright, just as Hermione was, but she had been doubting herself quite a bit lately. "Oh, I don't know," she finally managed.

Hermione shook her head. "Nonsense. Come on, do it with me, Ara."

Aralynn glanced over to Harry, finally picking up her wand when he nodded her on encouragingly. She watched Hermione, moving her wand in unison and repeated with her: " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Their feathers began to levitate, rising higher and higher per their wand's beckoning. Ron shook his head and looked away, resting his head atop his textbooks. They slowly lowered their feathers back down. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Look, class—Miss Granger and Miss Weasley have done it! They have successfully demonstrated the charm! Well done, dears."

* * *

Once class had ended, the students piled out of the room and into the courtyard. Ron was walking alongside Harry, and Aralynn was walking with Hermione. Ron must not have realized the girls were behind them, because he had begun mocking Hermione. "It's _Leviosa_ ," he mimicked. "Not _Leviosar_!"

Some of the boys walking with them, including Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas snickered at his attempt to duplicate Hermione's voice. Ron continued, though Aralynn wished he hadn't. "She's so pretentious, I swear. She's a _nightmare_. No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

Hermione's eyes had begun to well with tears. Aralynn rubbed her back gently.

"Aralynn is Hermione's friend," Neville pointed out.

Ron scoffed. "No, she isn't. Ara just pities her. She thinks Hermione is annoying, too. She's only being her friend because she feels bad for her. She knows that nobody _else_ has interest in Hermione."

Hermione jerked her attention to Aralynn. "That's _not_ true," said Aralynn.

"I know," Hermione nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I want to be alone." She quickened her pace, shoving through the boys, trying to mask the sounds of her weeping as she hurried away.

Aralynn's blood boiled. She, too, shoved through the boys, whipped around, and stopped directly in front of Ron. "What is _wrong_ with you, Ronald?" she demanded. "You're _so_ insensitive! She could _hear_ you!"

Ron's ears went red, but he shrugged it off dismissively. "So? At least now she knows."

Even though Aralynn knew that he didn't quite mean that, she was still livid. She couldn't bring herself to think rationally. "You're an _ass_ , Ronald Weasley!" She took her _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ textbook and bashed him upside the head with it. "You had better find Hermione and apologize immediately!"

She turned sharply on her heel, storming away from the boys. She spent the rest of the day trying to find Hermione, but she couldn't. She checked everywhere she could think to look—classrooms, the courtyard, the grounds, but she was nowhere to be found. The last place she could think to look was in the girls' lavatory. She reached out to open the door before Parvati Patil exited. She stumbled, then looked over. "Oh, Aralynn. I was about to come look for you. If you're trying to find Hermione, she's inside. I guess she's been in there crying all day."

"Thank you, Parvati," Aralynn said, entering the loo. She went to the only stall where the door was closed and knocked gently on the wood. "Hermione?" she called softly. "Are you alright?"

Hermione sniffled. "I-I'm fine," she said. "I don't mean to be rude, but I-I kind of want to be alone right now. Is that okay?"

Aralynn frowned, gently touching the wood. She wished she could console Hermione. "Of course," she said. "I'll leave you be. If you're feeling any better; come to the feast, okay? You should eat something before the night is over, and besides… it's a holiday."

There was shuffling from inside the stall. "Thanks, Ara."

The Weasley girl sighed. "Try to feel better," she said before turning and leaving the lavatory.

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with the loud chatter of students and faculty who were enlivened with the celebrations underway. Lit jack-o-lanterns were levitating in the stead of the candles which were usually there. The ceiling, enchanted to mirror the night's sky, was clear and twinkling brightly with stars. The walls were decorated with streams of banners, and spooky decorations of all kinds—crows, bats, and undead creatures of any sort. The Hogwarts ghosts were even sporting costumes. The tables blossomed with dazzling shades of colors, centerpieces of candy lined the center of each house's seating area. Aralynn strode over to Ron and Harry, who were gorging themselves with the prepared feast.

Aralynn sat across from the boys but made a point to ignore Ron. "Just so everyone here knows—I found Hermione. She's in the girls' bathroom. She's been crying all day."

Ron went red but remained silent. Harry was frowning. "Is she okay?"

Aralynn shrugged. "I can't say. She wanted to be alone." She gave Ron a pointed look.

Harry grabbed an empty plate, beginning to fill it with food. "Well, we can save this for her. I'm sure she'll be hungry when she's feeling better."

"That's a great idea, Harry," said Aralynn, smiling.

"Tell her 'Happy Halloween' for me, will you? Happy Halloween to you, too."

She nodded. "I will. Happy Halloween, Harry."

Ron cleared his throat. "Well, Ara, you should really eat something."

Aralynn shifted her blazing eyes towards Ron. "Don't talk to me until you've apologized to Hermione. You've been nothing but cruel to her this semester. She's a very kind person. She cares about all of us, even though I don't think we really deserve it."

Ron looked away, returning to the feast before him.

Aralynn gathered some food and began eating. Fred and George ambled on over, sitting between their sister. They huddled together, doing their best to squish her. "Hey there, Flame Brain," they said together. George added: "How's school going?"

Aralynn exhaled shortly, struggling to breathe from the pressure of her elder brothers pressing into her sides. "It's going well," she told them. "I've gotten excellent marks in my classes so far. They could be better, but I'm catching up."

"Mum will be proud to hear that," said Fred.

"Oh, ecstatic," agreed George. "We've been writing with Charlie and Bill."

"They're _always_ asking about you," said Fred.

"Ron, too," George said, but in passing.

"Why haven't they sent me an owl?"

The twins shrugged. "Can't say," they said together.

At that moment, Amete came fluttering in. She rested and sat upon Aralynn's shoulder, nibbling at her hair a few times before flying away. Aralynn laughed. "I guess she wanted to say hello."

Fred and George turned their attention on Ron. "What about you, baby brother? Have you failed yet?"

"Coming soon," George snickered.

"The Weasley Family disgrace!" laughed Fred.

Ron snarled. "Shove it! I'm doing okay in my classes!"

"What about exams?" asked Fred.

George grinned. "They're at the end of the year, Ronnie. D'you think you'll pass those?"

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "I have time."

The boys rolled their eyes. Fred was looking around, trying to figure out what was missing from the table. "Hey—where's the smart one? The girl with the bushy hair?"

"Hermione," Aralynn said. "She's in the bathroom."

George raised an eyebrow. "Upset stomach?"

Aralynn shook her head. "She's been crying."

"A shame!" Fred exclaimed. "Why is that?"

Aralynn looked at her twin brother. "Ronald was talking to the boys after Charms class and said that Hermione was a nightmare who has no friends."

"You're her friend," George pointed out.

"Yes, well, he said that I was only pretending to be her friend because I pity her. We were behind him. She heard everything. She's been in the loo since."

Fred and George turned on Ron. "Why would you say something like that?"

Ron reddened. "I… was annoyed."

"You ought to be nicer, Ron," said George.

Fred nodded. "We may be jokesters, but they're harmless."

"I didn't mean it!" Ron shouted.

"I'm sure it _felt_ like you meant it," said George.

"I'm telling Mum," said Fred.

Ron paled. "No, please!"

The twins shook their head. "Expect a Howler soon, Ickle Ronniekins."

When they wandered away, Ron huffed at his sister. " _Why_ would you tell them? Now Mum is going to send me a Howler!"

"It's no less than you deserve!"

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall flew open. Professor Quirrell came running down the center aisle, looking flushed and panicked. "TROLL!" he shouted. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! _TROLL_ IN THE _DUNGEON_!" Just before the platform where the faculty sat, he came to a stop. He stood stagnantly but swayed uneasily. "Thought you'd ought to know." Then, he toppled over, unconscious.

The room was silent while everybody processed the information that had just been thrown at them. Once they fully realized what Quirrell had said, the students collectively erupted with blood-curdling screams that filled the hall. Students were standing, running around frantic, panicking as much as they could panic.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood, raising his hands. He raised his voice more than any of them had ever heard before. "SILENCE!" he called to the hall. The students came to a faltering, and silent, stop. Their eyes were now on Dumbledore. "Please, do not panic. This situation will be handled. Prefects, please lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately. Faculty, I would have you accompany me to the dungeons."

Percy Weasley gathered the Gryffindor students together, leading them out of the Great Hall. "Stay together!" he ordered. "Keep up!" The students were huddled close to Percy, following as he led them away from the Great Hall. Ron and Harry were somewhat behind the group, but still close enough. Aralynn moved with them, then suddenly stopped. She remembered that Hermione was in the restroom and had no idea what was happening.

She turned, running down the hall. Harry had moved to speak to her when he noticed that she was running in the opposite direction. He grabbed Ron and dragged him after her. "Aralynn!" called Harry. "What are you doing?"

"Hermione doesn't know!" Aralynn called back.

Alarmed by this, Harry and Ron ran quicker to catch up with her. They turned a corner, hearing screaming coming from the girls' bathroom. They shuffled inside and stop in their tracks. With its back turned, there stood a gigantic mountain troll who wielded a large club. The stench coming from the creature was foul and putrid. The stalls had been damaged by the troll, presumably from swinging at Hermione. Aralynn looked to the sinks, where some were broken. Hermione was curled into herself, hiding underneath one. The troll, who had noticed her, was getting ready to strike yet again.

"Hermione, move!" Aralynn called.

The girl crawled away from the sink just in time. The troll had bashed the one she was under with its club only seconds later. Aralynn ran forward, grabbing a stray plank of wood that had belonged to one of the stalls. She threw it at the troll's head. Ron and Harry joined in, trying to get its attention.

"Over here!" cried Harry.

"Hey! Pea brain!" shouted Ron, throwing a discarded piece of sink at its head. It stalled, turning to look at Ron. The boy stumbled back, staring at the beast raised its club.

Aralynn jumped up and grabbed onto the club, shrieking when it lifted her into the air. "Harry!" she cried. "Do something!"

Harry pulled out his wand, trying to figure out what to do. "Get off the club!"

The girl glanced around, trying to figure out where to go. She crawled up the club and latched herself onto the troll's upper-arm. When it noticed that she was there, it tried to smack her off. She screamed, doing her best to avoid being crushed by its massive hand. "Ron! Harry! _Help_!"

Harry grabbed onto the club when it came back down. The troll lifted it, causing Harry to fall off. He landed on the monster's shoulders, holding tightly onto its head when it tried to shake him off. The force of the troll's movement was so intense that it launched Aralynn off. She slammed into the wall, then hit the ground. She lifted her head up as well as she could, weary and pained from the collision. Luckily, she was still conscious.

Now, the troll had Harry's leg in its hand. It kept trying to hit Harry with the club.

"Ron, help him!" she said, voice hoarse.

"What do I do!?" Ron sputtered.

Aralynn thought for a moment. "Levitation! Ron, the charm!"

Ron looked desperately at Hermione, who showed him the wrist movement again. "Swish and flick!" she said.

"Enunciate!" Aralynn called.

Ron mustered up as much courage as he could. He waved his wand and shouted: " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The club was now hovering above the troll's head. It went to hit Harry again and was confused when nothing happened. It looked to its empty opposite hand, then up. The club came plummeting down, hitting it atop the head. It wavered before coming crashing down, now unconscious. Harry flew from its grasp.

Once he was on the ground, he stood up and brushed his robes off. He hurried over to Aralynn and pulled her to her feet. When their hands touched, she felt something unusual—some sense of familiarity—some sort of bond. However, her body ached far too much for her to question it. Aralynn tottered over to Ron, patting him on the back. "Nice work."

Hermione emerged, meeting with the three of them. "Is it… is it _dead_?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Knocked out."

Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell came rushing in. The three of them stopped, looking at the unconscious troll on the floor. McGonagall gaped. "Oh!" she gasped. "What happened!? Explain yourselves!"

Harry, Aralynn, and Ron stammered to find the right words—any sort of explanation to give. Hermione stepped forward. "This was _my_ doing, Professor."

The three teachers looked at her. "I beg your pardon?" Snape sneered.

Hermione took a deep breath. "When I heard about the troll, I went looking for it. I've read about them—a _lot_ about them. I thought that I would be able to handle it. I tried to battle with it, but it overpowered me. Harry, Ron, and Aralynn came in just in time. If they hadn't… well, I'd probably be dead."

McGonagall sniffed. "Miss Granger, I had expected better of you! Do you realize how _foolish_ it was for you to seek out such a dangerous creature? I am taking five points from Gryffindor for your _serious_ recklessness. Not many eleven-year-old children would be able to take on a fully-grown mountain troll and _survive_. As for you three—" She paused, looking between Harry and the Weasley siblings. "I award each of you five points… for sheer _dumb_ luck! Back to your dormitories! _Immediately_!"

The four Gryffindor students shuffled out of the bathroom quickly. They didn't bother to look behind as they made their way back to the Common Room. They were all silent until they went through the portrait hole. Hermione moved ahead of the group, then turned to them. "I can't thank you all enough," she said. "I meant what I said to McGonagall. I probably _would_ be dead, if you hadn't come for me."

Aralynn smiled weakly at Hermione. "That's what friends are for."

Hermione glanced between Harry and Ron. "You're both my friends?"

Harry smiled brightly. "Of course, Hermione."

She looked at Ron, who was silent. Ron shifted his weight and rubbed his hands together. "Yeah," he said. " _Best_ friends."

Hermione decided to take that as his apology.

That night, none of the four were able to sleep. They thought about their encounter with the troll and how they had somehow managed to survive. Moreover, they felt a strong bond molding between each of them. Perhaps before Hermione would have only regarded Aralynn as her friend, but now she thought of Harry and Ron as the same. Even Ron was now considering Hermione as his friend. They hadn't quite yet realized that this particular incident would be the mortar solidifying their lifelong friendship. One day, there would come a day when they realized that their friendships were more than random—but fate.


	11. The Golden Boy

The amount of sleep Aralynn Weasley had gotten since Halloween was positively dismal. Despite her exhaustion, she was still managing to keep up with her classes. It wasn't the mountain troll that had been keeping her awake. Of course, during the moment, she was certain that she was going to die. For a few short days after the battle with the creature; she had suffered from nightmares. Nevertheless, she had since relinquished the fear she had experienced that night. The reason for her lack of sleep was because of Harry—Harry and the connection that had sparked between them in the girls' lavatory. There hadn't been enough time while facing off with the troll for her to really put stock into what had happened. However, she had since had an ample amount of time to reflect.

Memory of the connection had come back to her in a dream. The scene was exactly as it had been, only, when Aralynn and Harry's hands touched; the rest of the world seemed to fade away. There was something of a spotlight on their linked hands. Even while asleep, the spark of their contact bolted through Aralynn's body, causing her to wake. The dream became a reoccurrence and severely hindered her ability to get a full night's rest.

Hermione, ever observant, had noticed the exhaustion peeking out underneath Aralynn's eyes. The questioning began the morning before the first Quidditch game of the season—Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry was on edge, and Ron noticed, but Hermione seemed to hone in on Aralynn.

"You don't look well," Hermione said.

Aralynn chuckled. "Thank you, Hermione."

The girl reddened. "Oh, I only mean—you look like you haven't been sleeping well."

The redhead waved her hand. "I know what you meant, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded. "Well… what's wrong?"

"Nothing more than a dream," Aralynn told her.

"Not a nightmare?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Not a nightmare."

Ron had been watching Harry, who was doing nothing more than poking at his breakfast. The boy frowned, pushing the plate toward his friend. "You should eat something, Harry," he told the black-haired boy. "You'll need your strength for the game."

"I'm not worried about Quidditch," Harry told him. "I mean, I am, but… my mind is elsewhere."

Aralynn looked over at Harry. "Where?"

Hermione centered her attention on Harry as well.

Harry Potter sighed. "When some of the professors came in after we knocked the troll out, I saw that Professor Snape's leg was bleeding."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows. "Is that suspicious?"

"It wasn't," said Harry, glancing over to Snape—who was walking down an aisle between the tables. "Until now. He's limping."

Hermione stared at him. "What's your point, Harry?"

"When we were learning the levitation charm, Aralynn told me that she thought that whatever Hagrid retrieved from the vault at Gringotts is what the three-headed dog is guarding," Harry explained. "What if Snape let the troll in as a diversion so that he could head up to the third floor, and try to make it past the dog?"

"You think that Snape would suffer that dog for whatever it's guarding?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "It would make sense."

" _Why_ , though?" questioned Ron.

"I dunno," answered Harry. "That's what I have to find out."

Aralynn blinked. "What _we_ have to find out."

Harry seemed surprised. "We?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "We're in this together, Harry."

In the distance, there was an owl screeching. Their attention was drawn by Hedwig, Harry's owl. She was flying toward them, holding within her talons a long parcel. Hermione glanced at Harry. "Isn't it a bit early for mail?"

"I wouldn't know," Harry told her. "I've never gotten mail."

Aralynn studied it. "Well, go on, Harry. Open it."

Harry began to open the parcel and Ron quickly jumped in, helping him tear the wrappings off. Once the paper was gone, there was a broom lying upon the table. Harry was gaping at it. "Someone sent me a broom!"

Ron shook his head. "Not just _any_ broom, Harry! This is the newest model—the Nimbus 2000!"

Harry was in awe. He couldn't believe that someone had sent him mail at all—let alone a broom, and the newest and fastest model of broom, at that. "Who would do this?" he asked. "I don't know anyone who would send me a broom!"

Aralynn picked up a note that was attached to it. "Could be from whoever left this."

Harry looked embarrassed. "Right," he muttered. He took the note and opened it, reading over the words. "It's from Professor McGonagall!"

Draco Malfoy was ambling by. When he noticed the broom, he turned on his heel, and stared at it. "What?" he hissed. "First years aren't allowed to have brooms!" He reached out to grab it, but Aralynn smacked his hand.

"Harry is allowed one," she said. "He's on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

Draco was outraged. "That's impossible!"

Hermione turned her nose up. "He owes it to you, really. McGonagall noticed his talent when he went after Neville's Remembrall."

Furious, Draco went to report the forbidden item to the nearest professor—Flitwick. However, Professor Flitwick didn't seem to be paying attention to him. Instead, he was some students that had since gathered around Harry; admiring the broom along with them.

Aralynn smirked at Draco before he stormed away. She turned back to Harry. "The match will be starting soon. You should find the other team members and prepare."

Renewed of his gusto, Harry shoveled his breakfast into his mouth and ran off to find the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione laughed at his newfound glee—as he was practically bouncing out of the Great Hall.

* * *

When it was time for the match to begin, all of the students and faculty bundled themselves in warm clothing to try their best to stave off the cold November air. Hermione, Ron, and Aralynn walked to the Quidditch Pitch together, following the rest of the Gryffindors. Amongst the crowd was exhilarated prattle. Some of the students were even placing bets on which team they thought would win the match. Most seemed to be betting on Slytherin, if only because Harry was a first-year and a first-time flyer. However, those loyal to Harry who believed in him were insistent that Gryffindor would win. "They have _Harry Potter_ the students would argue. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named couldn't defeat him, what makes you think that Slytherin can?"

The Quidditch Pitch was a large arena with several tall, towering spires. Every other stand was decorated with the colors of the teams who were playing the match—green and silver for Slytherin; scarlet and gold for Gryffindor. The students colored the stands with their sported house-centered garb. The various colors seemed to be waving, as they were not forced to sit with their houses, and instead allowed to intermingle.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered near Neville Longbottom who, with Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, were waving triangular flags with Harry's face on them. When Ron noticed the flags, he pointed them out to Hermione and Aralynn. The girls laughed.

"A bit creepy," Aralynn chuckled with Hermione nodding.

"His reputation precedes him. He'll always have fans," said Hermione.

"Quiet!" Ron hissed. "The match is starting."

In the center of the arena, Madam Hooch was standing on the ground, speaking to both teams. She then blew on her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into the air, as the Bludgers and Snitch were already zooming around the field, allowing the teams to begin fighting for it. This was also when Lee Jordan, the announcer, began speaking.

"Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!" called Lee over loudspeaker. "Opponents this game; Slytherin versus Gryffindor! The Quaffle is up and the match begins!"

The players were dashing around the field on their brooms, showing quick flashes of silver, green, gold, and scarlet whenever they zipped by. The students in the stands were clapping and bouncing excitedly. Half cheered for Slytherin, and half cheered for Gryffindor. The chants bundled together.

"Go, go, Gryffindor!" – "Go, go, Slytherin!"

Aralynn, Hermione, and Ron kept their sights out for Harry. He was higher than the rest of the players, doing his best to spot the Snitch from his height. Aralynn clapped, keeping her eyes on Harry. "Go Harry!"

"Angelina Johnson has the Quaffle!" announced Jordan. Those in the stands turned their attention to watch her. "Excellent dodges from those nasty Slytherin cheaters!"

"— _JORDAN_!" came McGonagall's warning voice.

"There she goes! She scores! Angelina Johnson scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

A Slytherin player dove underneath George, grabbing ahold of the Quaffle. He then throws the ball to their team captain. "Damn, the Quaffle goes to Slytherin; in the hands of Marcus Flint!"

" _Jordan_."

Lee waved his hand. "Sorry, Professor," he said, watching the game intently. "Flint goes for the score— _OH!_ Blocked by Gryffindor's Keeper, Oliver Wood!"

One of Slytherin's players when to snatch the Quaffle, but they were beaten by their opposing team. Lee was almost leaping over the railing from excitement. "Nice job, Katie Bell has retrieved the Quaffle!"

Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell flew side-by-side, passing the Quaffle back and forth. Ron watched, tilting his head. "What d'you think they're doing?"

"Strategizing," said Aralynn.

"Angelina throws the Quaffle—and through the goal! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione squealed. "We're winning!"

"The Slytherins look angry," Aralynn pointed out.

Marcus Flint flew over to one of the Slytherin Beaters, plucking the bat from his teammate's hand. A Bludger came waltzing over to Flint, who whacked the Bludger in Oliver Wood's direction. The Bludger slammed into Wood's stomach, causing him to fall from his broom and into the ground. The crowd gasped.

"CHEATING!" shouted Lee. "That's a foul!"

With the Gryffindor team distracted by Wood's fall, Slytherin manages to score. Flint and another teammate fly to Angelina, shoving themselves against each of her sides to box her in. They rattle her back and forth before falling back, allowing her to slam into one of the towers, fall through the capes, and hit the ground.

Lee turned on the faculty. "They're _cheating_!"

McGonagall glared at him until he went quiet. With Angelina ejected from the game, Slytherin manages to score again. Hermione hit her fist off of the stands' rail. "No!"

Aralynn placed her hand on Hermione's wrist. "Relax. We still have Harry."

Harry, who was floating about the rest of the game, lowered his broom. He looked over the players, seeming as though he were trying to find the Snitch. However, his broom suddenly began to whip back and forth, and buck him from the seat. Aralynn lurched forward, white-knuckling the rail. "Hermione, what's going on!?"

Ron stepped forward, staring at the broom. "It's gonna throw him off!"

Hermione pulled the pair of binoculars that were hanging around her neck up to her eyes. "It looks like someone is jinxing Harry's broom!"

Aralynn shook her head. "Who?"

She scanned the stands with the binoculars. "It's Snape!" she said. "He's muttering something under his breath!"

"What are supposed to do? Harry could die!" Ron whined.

Hermione handed the binoculars to Aralynn. "Keep an eye on Snape. I'll handle it."

Aralynn eyed the binoculars but passed them off to Ron. Her focus was solely on Harry. She wanted to throw herself over the stands and jump onto Harry's broom, hoping that she would be able to do something to help him. She wasn't sure why, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. As though, if Harry were to fall from his broom, she would lose something direly important.

Ron brought the binoculars up to his face, looking through the stands to find Hermione. "I can't see her!" he said. "Wait—there she is! She's by Snape now!"

As much as Aralynn wanted to look, she couldn't pull her eyes from Harry. Her breath was hitched in her throat, and her heart was about to burst from her chest. "Come on, Hermione," she whispered under her breath. "Help him."

Suddenly, Harry's broom went still. He was hanging off of the Nimbus, and once it stilled, he climbed atop it again. Aralynn looked to Ron. "What happened?"

"Snape was distracted," he told her. "Hermione set his robes on fire."

Hermione then reappeared from shoving her way through the crowd. Aralynn smiled brightly at her. "Brilliant, Hermione. Truly."

Hermione beamed at her, but then frowned. "You're crying, Ara."

Aralynn reached up to touch her wet eyes. "I guess I am. I didn't know."

Once Harry regained control of his broom, he noticed that the Slytherin Seeker was chasing after something. As he figured it was the Snitch, he went following after the opposing team's Seeker. Hermione, who was standing between Ron and Aralynn, grasped their hands. "Go, Harry!"

Harry and Terence Higgs were side-by-side now, bashing back and forth into each other. They dove down, going after the small golden ball that was must faster than they were. They were nearing closer and closer to the ground. For a moment, it looked as though they were going to bash into the ground. Fearful, Terence withdrew from the hunt. At the last second, Harry leveled his broom. It was too close to the ground for him to stay mounted. Instead, he stepped onto the wood, balancing as well as he could. He took a few steps forward, hand outstretched toward the Snitch. He took another step, onto the handle, but tumbled forward. He rolled into the ground, and once he stopped; he stood up.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching Harry with intense eyes. The boy placed his hands on his stomach and wretched. Aralynn bit her lip. Hermione exhaled. "He looks like he might be sick," she said.

Then, Harry spit something from his mouth. He held it in his hand and raised it, bestowing it to the crowd. It was the Golden Snitch. The crowd began to cheer. Lee clapped. "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! That's one-hundred-and-fifty points for the team! Gryffindor WINS!"

The crowd began chanting again, but now it was the whole crowd. "Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor!"

Standing in the middle of the arena, Harry was absolutely twinkling.


	12. Reflection of Lies

Winning the first match of the Quidditch season earned Harry the title of 'Hogwarts's Golden Boy.' While he seemed uncomfortable with the attention, which, albeit, he was already earning because of his legacy; he still seemed to be basking in the glory. If Harry believed that people were trying to get close to him before, because of his defeating The Dark Lord; it definitely seemed as though people were flocking to him even more now. Mostly everyone at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wanted to be Harry Potter's friend. Whether it was because they thought him a worthy friend, or simply because they wanted to be close to the hero of Hogwarts was unclear. Ron had taken a liking to turning his nose up at those seeking Harry's attention, as he was the first to earn the honor of being Harry Potter's best friend.

It was almost impossible for Harry, Ron, Aralynn, and Hermione to travel through the corridors without some sort of greeting being thrown at them. Or rather—at Harry.

"Hi, Harry!" said an eager Ravenclaw girl who none of them recognize.

"Wicked match, Harry," said Seamus Finnegan.

"Harry—want to study together in the Great Hall later?" asked a Hufflepuff boy, Ernie Macmillan.

Even elder Hogwarts students fought for Harry's attention. Though, they all figured it perpetuated by the pro-Harry propaganda Fred and George were promoting. The acclaim Harry was receiving was quite obviously irritating two people in particular: Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. Draco and Professor Snape were the first two people to show true disdain—even hatred—for Harry from the very beginning of the school term. They were outraged by the fact that the Potter boy had people fawning over his every step.

It seemed because of such recognition that Harry's marks in their Potions class were nothing but bleak. Perhaps Harry was the most skilled students when it came to Potions, but his three friends noticed that he was performing, at least, decently. Professor Snape was plainly singling the boy out due to his newfound, second bout of fame.

One afternoon, after their recent Potions class, the four were roaming around the grounds. Harry seemed dismayed and his friends were doing everything they could to cheer him up. Professor Snape's prejudice was finally starting to affect him.

"Don't worry, Harry," cooed Hermione. "I'm sure Snape will find someone else to torment soon."

"Not soon enough," sighed Harry. "I'm going to fail Potions at this rate. Why does he hate me so much?"

None of them answered his question. "Well, maybe he'll go in on Neville next. Aside from you and Hermione; Neville seems to be his favorite target," Ron offered.

"I dunno," Harry grumbled. "He _hates_ me."

They were then unexpectedly met by Rubeus Hagrid. "'Oo hates you, Harry?"

"Snape," Harry answered.

"Poppycock!" shouted Hagrid. "Snape don' hate you."

"He _does_ , though, Hagrid. I wish you could see how he treats me."

Hagrid shook his head ferociously. "Snape is a Hogwarts professor. He don' hate nobody. A professor can' be biased!"

"Snape is a bit a cruel," Aralynn intervened. "Particularly to Harry."

Hagrid scoffed. "What else makes ya think tha' Snape hates you?"

Harry thought. "During the Quidditch match, he jinxed my broom."

"Nonsense!" Hagrid roared. "Why would Snape do summat like tha'?"

The black-haired boy shrugged. "Who knows. Why was he trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween?"

Hagrid startled, staring at the boy. "Three-headed dog? 'Oo told you 'bou Fluffy?"

Aralynn raised her eyebrows. " _Fluffy_? That _beast_ has a name?"

The half-giant looked offended by Aralynn referring to Fluffy as a 'beast.' "Well, o'course he's got a name! He's a good boy! He's mine!"

" _Where_ on earth did you find a three-headed dog, Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"I won 'im down at a pub last year. An Irish feller was giving 'im away. Raised 'im as me own," Hagrid explained. "Then I lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"—Yes?" the four asked simultaneously.

Hagrid went silent and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Nevr'min! Not my business ter tell. Anyway, you four should stop yer thinkin' that Snape is doin' som'thin he shouldn't be!"

Harry huffed. "Hagrid, you must listen! Snape is after whatever Fluffy is guarding! I saw him the night the troll was at Hogwarts—his leg was bleeding, and the next day he was _limping_."

Hagrid sniffed. "Maybe 'ee tripped."

" _Tripped_?" Hermione laughed. She moved in front of them, standing her ground to the man. "Hagrid, I _know_ a curse when I see one. When Harry's broom was acting all wonky, I saw Professor Snape in the stands, muttering something. You need to keep eye contact when you're performing a curse, and Snape wasn't _blinking_!"

Hagrid sighed loudly. "Listen ter me, you four. Yer meddlin' in things that ought _not_ to be meddled in, ya hear? Now, what Fluffy is guardin' is none of yer business! It's strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel!"

The children looked between each other, now knowing that they had a lead to follow. Hagrid, too, seemed to notice and went pale. "Forget I said that!" he shouted. "I should'n have!" The large man then quickly whisked himself away, quietly berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut when he should have.

Harry seemed confused. "Who is Nicolas Flamel?" he asked, looking over. "Hermione, d'you know?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't, but there's always the library!"

* * *

The four spent the next month searching every inch of the library. Unfortunately, each search was unsuccessful. They hadn't managed to find a single bit of information on anybody named Nicolas Flamel. By the time Christmas break came around, they were feeling downtrodden. How were they ever going to figure out what Fluffy was guarding when they couldn't even find proof of Nicolas Flamel's existence? They likely wouldn't be able to search again until Christmas came and went.

It was the week before Christmas that their holiday break occurred. Most of the students were packing in preparation to return home. Hermione had spent much of that time talking about how much she missed her parents, and how she was glad to be able to see them again. When McGonagall had come around to collect the names of the students who would be returning home for holiday, Hermione had eagerly jumped to make sure that her name was on the list. Ron and Aralynn's names were not put on the list. They were meant to be, but instead, their parents decided to visit their elder brother, Charlie, in Romania. Harry also neglected to put his name on the list. Aralynn suspected that he wanted to avoid his family at all costs.

Just before those going home were to board the train, Hermione went looking for her friends. They were in the Great Hall. Aralynn was sitting by, watching Harry and Ron play Wizard's Chess. Ron, who was quite good at the game, was absolutely dominating Harry. Luckily, it was more of a teaching moment than any actual playing moment. Harry had been curious about the game, and so Ron decided to show him how to play it.

Hermione wandered over to them, lugging a large trunk along with her. "Why haven't you two packed?" she asked Ron and Aralynn.

Aralynn looked up. "Mum and Dad decided to visit Charlie in Romania. Regardless, I was going to stay so that Harry wouldn't be alone during his first Christmas at Hogwarts."

Ron nodded. "I would have stayed, too. Queen to E-5."

Hermione watched the chessboard as the piece moved to Harry's knight. The queen then stood from her chair and whacked the knight, breaking the piece in half. She gasped. "That's totally barbaric!"

Ron shrugged. " _That's_ Wizard's Chess. Shouldn't you be leaving for the platform?"

Hermione huffed at him. "I will be in a moment. I stopped to say goodbye… and since you'll both be here for Christmas; you can help Harry search for Nicolas Flamel in the library."

Ron gaped. "We've already looked! More than _once_!"

Hermione smirked. "You haven't looked in the restricted section."

Aralynn gasped, putting a hand to her chest. " _Hermione_."

The brunette laughed. "I know, I know. At least I won't be here while you three are breaking the rules. Be careful, though. We need to find out who Flamel is at _least_ before you're all expelled. Anyway, Happy Christmas."

They said their goodbyes to Hermione. Ron and Harry returned to their game.

Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape came wandering into the Great Hall. Aralynn redirected her attention to the teachers, watching them speak. Or rather, watching them argue. Whatever they were talking about was surely heated. Aralynn tried her best to read their lips, but it wasn't a skill had ever acquired. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a clearer view, but Professor Snape noticed her spying. He turned his back to her, pulling Quirrell to face away from her as well. Suddenly, a sharp, burning sensation struck her scar. She hissed and placed her hand to her forehead.

Harry and Ron were drawn to her. "Are you okay, Ara?" asked Ron.

Harry was staring at her hand. "What are you doing?"

Aralynn then remembered that Harry hadn't found out about her identical scar. Panicked, she lied. "I have a headache."

Ron tilted his head. "D'you need to go to the infirmary?"

The girl shook her head. "No, I'm alright."

Harry, however, didn't seem to believe her. He was still staring at the placement of her hand on her forehead. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what could be under her bangs, and why the action was so familiar to him. He was distracted when Ron overtook another one of his chess pieces.

Aralynn quickly withdrew her hand from her head. She wanted to get out of the Great Hall and try to get Harry to forget about her head. She tapped her foot, trying to think of what could possibly work. She perked up. "Hey, let's visit Hagrid."

Ron grumbled. "We're playing a game right now, Ara."

She glared. "You can play it again later, Ronald."

"Let's finish first," he said, studying the placement of the pieces carefully.

Aralynn narrowed her eyes. She glared at him and stood up, swiping the red and white pieces off of the board. "Oh, look at that. Game over. What a shame."

"Hey!" Ron growled. "What'd you do that for!?"

His sister smiled at him. "Hagrid's, anyone?"

Ron packed up his chess set. The boys followed Aralynn out of the castle. The world outside was blindly bright. The ground was blanketed with a thick layer of snow, and the sun's light on the overwhelming whiteness caused their eyes to burn. They trudged downhill through the snow, heading to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the grounds. Smoke was rolling from his chimney and his dog, Fang, was sitting in the window. He began to bark when he noticed the children.

Aralynn approached Hagrid's door and knocked on it several times. He was trying to get Fang to quiet down when he opened the door. The corners of his beard perked up when he saw their faces. "Well, isn't this a surprise!"

They sauntered into Hagrid's house, discarded their winter protection, and settled in various seats around the small one-room building. Hagrid went over to the fire, tending to the kettle of tea he had brewing. "What are you three doin' here?" he asked. "Bored already, are ya?"

"Ask Aralynn," Ron said, still bitter. "It was her idea."

Hagrid's eyes welled with tears. He patted them away with his shirt. "Oh, really? You wanted ter see _me_ , Miss Aralynn?"

The girl grinned at the man. His emotions appeared to be getting the better of him, though she didn't know why. "Of course, Hagrid. I love visiting you. Why are you crying?"

Hagrid waved his hands erratically. "Oh, I just—it's been—I'm not used ter people wantin' ter visit me, tha's all."

Aralynn watched Hagrid thoughtfully, figuring that that wasn't actually what he wanted to say. Every time he saw her, he always seemed to start crying. Why did he feel so emotional around her? It was true that she hadn't been thinking about all the strange things that had begun happening around her when she started school. The last she could remember thinking about was the connection she and Harry made when they were fighting off the troll. Frankly, she had been quite glad that so many questions weren't haunting her brain. Now, however, she was thinking of them again. Why was a connection made between Harry and her? Why did Hagrid always cry when she was around? Why did she feel like part of her was fading when Harry was nearly thrown from his broom? Why did she feel like she was missing something? Why didn't she feel like she was _incomplete_?

* * *

The days following up to Christmas Eve were spent mostly in the library. The remaining faculty and students seemed to think that the three were barking mad to be spending their days, and evenings, (what they believed) studying. Aralynn had been so distracted by discovering who Nicolas Flamel was that she hadn't taken a moment to slow down and absorb her surroundings. One afternoon, while eating lunch in the Great Hall, she decided something—nothing was quite as beautiful as Hogwarts during Christmas.

Twelve massive snow-covered fir trees lined the perimeter of the hall, which were decorated with bulging colored bulbs, pulsing lights, and large stars sitting atop the trees' peaks. Above head were several strings of twinkling golden lights; crisscrossed multicolored streamers of garland, tinsel, holly, and mistletoe. The windows clouded over with frost, and the ceiling had been enchanted to sprinkle down flakes of snow—though warm and dry. Wreaths and jingling bells sat on the walls between the windows. The long tables held centerpieces of cookies, candies, and small reindeer figurines. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Aralynn picked at her food, listening to the sound of Harry and Ron conversing, but not actually honing in on their conversation. She was happily munching on a pumpkin pasty. It was only when Ron elbowed her did she look over. "What's that?"

"I was telling Ron that we should look for any writings on Nicolas Flamel after Christmas. Perhaps even Christmas night. What d'you think?"

Aralynn glanced between the boys. "Sure," she said. "We can do that, but how are we going to get around the castle unnoticed?"

Harry shook his head. "We'll figure something out."

"We could look into some spells to turn us invisible or something," Ron suggested.

The opposite boy furrowed his eyebrows. "Does such a spell exist?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno."

"Hermione would be the one to ask," Aralynn said to them.

"Or you," Harry pointed out.

Aralynn cocked an eyebrow. "Why me?"

"You're just as smart as Hermione is, Ara. You two are elbow-to-elbow for the top of our class."

"We are?"

Ron blinked at her. "Didn't you know that?"

Aralynn hesitated. "Ah… no, I didn't. I guess I've been a bit distracted lately."

"Why's that?" asked Harry. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Where could she begin? Could she start by telling them that people had been acting very odd around her? Could she start by telling them that she felt unnaturally drawn to Harry? Could she tell them that she felt like something about her was false? Truthfully, what could she _really_ say? If she were honest, they would think that she was a complete nutter.

She wanted to tell them: " _I feel like my life is a lie_!"

Instead, she thought of the best excuse she could. "Exams," she lied. "I've been worried about exams."

Harry took it on word, but Ron didn't look so convinced. Before he could say anything, Aralynn had abruptly stood. "Best to get back to the library. We need to continue scouring through as many books as we can before nightfall."

The boys followed Aralynn back to the library. They split apart, all looking through different sections of the room since there was so much ground to cover. Aralynn was shuffling through books on a shelf when she came across a small, tattered book. She picked it up, studying the cover, which read: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. She remembered that her mother would read the stories inside to her and Ron when they were younger. _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ had been her favorite short from the book.

She took the book to the table, flipping through it. She smiled slightly, hearing the words in her mother's voice when she glanced over them. Sometimes she found herself wishing that she could be five again, fervently listening as Molly Weasley read the youngest pair of twins to sleep. She stopped flipping the pages, stopping on a story that she didn't recognize. _The Tale of the Three Brothers_. She combed through her memories several times, but not a single instance where her mother read this story aloud came to mind. In the top righthand corner of the page was a hand-drawn symbol—a triangle, with a straight line down the middle, and a circle inside of the shape. She traced her finger over the drawing, trying to discern why she felt that she had seen the symbol before. She flicked her eyes back to the words, reading over the story.

She must have read it almost one hundred times.

It felt so familiar, but she didn't know why.

* * *

Christmas Eve into Christmas morning was absolutely sleepless for Aralynn. She spent the entire night, alone in her dormitory, sitting in the sill of the window closest to her bed. She spent the night staring out the window, watching the snow falling lazily from the sky. The cold biting at her feet didn't seem to bother her much. If it did, she did nothing about it. She was too deep in her own thoughts to be pulled out of them. She wanted to find someone who had answers that they could give her. She wanted to march straight up to her mother and ask why she felt like she was an imposter. She wouldn't have eve known that it was morning if Harry and Ron had gone stomping excitedly into the Common Room.

Aralynn tore herself away from the window to meet the boys in the central, shared room. She was standing near the steps when they shared holiday greetings. They didn't seem to notice that she was there.

"Have you opened your presents?" asked Harry.

"No," answered Ron, as though it should have been obvious. "I was waiting so that we could open them together."

Harry looked confused. " _I_ got presents?"

"'Course!" exclaimed Ron. "What'd you expect? Turnips?"

"Well, I… I've never really gotten Christmas presents before."

Ron shrugged. "Now you have!"

Harry went to open them but paused. "Where's Ara?"

"Here," Aralynn announced, walking over to the Christmas tree.

"C'mon," Harry ushered. "Let's open them together."

Aralynn took her presents and sat on the couch with them. She didn't bother touching them while Ron and Harry opened theirs. When Ron opened the parcel addressed from their Molly, he immediately put the knitted maroon sweater on. In a different colored yarn was the letter 'R.'"

"Mum always knits us a sweater and makes us fudge," Ron told Harry. "Oh, look. Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans from Hermione."

Harry began to open his presents. The first opened was from Hagrid—a rather ugly hand-carved flute. Clearly, Hagrid had done it himself. The next was from his aunt and uncle; a fifty-pence piece. Though, Harry didn't seem to care for it very much, as he gave it to Ron when he expressed his fascination. The next present was from Mrs. Weasley.

"Ron—Ara, look!" he hollered. "It's from your mum!"

"She must like you," Aralynn pointed out.

Harry pulled out the emerald sweater and box of fudge. He pulled the sweater over his head, setting aside the box of Chocolate Frogs that Hermione had gifted him.

Ron almost squealed when he opened his present from Aralynn. "An autographed photo of Galvin Gudgeon!" he shouted. "How—where!?"

Aralynn offered a halfhearted grin. "It's a secret."

" _Secret Strategies for Wizard's Chess Domination_ ," Harry read aloud, holding a book in his hands. He turned toward Aralynn and gleamed at her. "Thank you!"

She nodded. "You're welcome, Harry."

"You haven't opened any of your presents!" Ron remarked. "Why not?"

Aralynn shrugged, beginning to open them just to appease Ron. She pulled the purple sweater from her mother over her head. She set the box of fudge aside. Hermione had gotten her a book of advanced spells. Hagrid had given her a book about magical plants. The last present was from Ron—a handmade silver necklace with a turquoise pendant. It was quite beautiful. She smiled and latched it around her neck.

Harry was looking embarrassed. "I didn't get you guys anything."

"That's okay!" Ron assured. "Next year."

Harry nodded at Ron. He eyed Aralynn for a long moment, noticing that she looked rather dejected. "Are you okay?"

Aralynn forced her expression into happiness. "Yes," she answered. "You've still got one present left, Harry."

"Oh, I do." He opened the parcel, pulling from the wrapping a silky, billowing cloak of silver. He ran his fingers over it, noting how soft it was.

" _No way_!"

Harry startled. " _What_ , Ron?"

"Is that? –It _is_!"

Harry stared wide-eyed at him. " _What_!?"

"That's an invisibility cloak, Harry! They're _incredibly_ rare!"

Aralynn watched as Harry wrapped the cloak around himself. His body subsequently disappeared, and he was left as nothing more than a floating head. "Look in the mirror," she told him.

He moved in front of the mirror, gawking at his lack of body in the reflection. He pulled the cloak over his head and watched his entire being vanish. "Amazing!" he said from under the cloth. "Who would have given me this?"

Aralynn picked up the note that had fallen from it. "Whoever wrote this," she said.

Harry removed the cloak and set it off to the side. He took the note and read aloud: "'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'"

"Is it signed?" asked Ron.

He flipped the note back and forth. "No."

"An anonymous gift-giver," said Aralynn. "How mysterious."

"Do you think this _really_ belonged to my father?"

"I don't know why they would have said it did if it didn't," Aralynn told him.

"Fair point."

"Hey!" Ron burst. "Harry, you could use that to get into the restricted section of the library! Nobody would ever know that you were there. Not even Mrs. Norris could rat you out."

"Brilliant, Ron," beamed Harry. "I'll do it tonight."

* * *

After lunch, the three went outside to enjoy the snow. Harry and Ron were having a snowball fight while Aralynn sat on the base of the fountain, feeding dead voles to Amete; who was perched on her knee. Hedwig was sitting on her left shoulder, watching her owner being pelted by snowballs. The boys had frequently asked Aralynn if she wanted to join, but she admittedly wasn't feeling particularly festive that afternoon. Amete hopped over to Hedwig, offering her last vole to Harry's owl. Hedwig took the vole and gratefully brushed her beak along Amete's head. Amete then fluttered to Aralynn's opposite shoulder, affectionately nibbling on the girl's hair. Fred, George, and Percy passed by. The twins had enchanted a few snowballs to stalk after Percy, occasionally hitting him in the back of the head; to which he expressed great frustration.

The twin boys observed that their younger sister was looking rather somber. They abandoned their post of torment and blundered over to her. They flopped down on either side of her and began incessantly poking her. They were obviously trying to get a smile out of her.

"What's wrong, Flame Brain?" asked Fred.

"Flames in your brain again?" added George with a snigger.

Aralynn, however, did not smile. It was something they were quite unaccustomed to. "No flames this time."

The boys frowned. At the same time, they asked: "What is it?"

Perhaps she could confide in them. Perhaps she couldn't. "D'you ever feel like there's something about you that… isn't _right_?"

The boys looked confused.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something _off_ about me. Like there's something about me that's missing, or it's something I'm not understanding. I've been getting these feelings in wave since the term started, but I can't seem to shake it nowadays."

Fred cocked his head. "Can't say I've ever really felt like I was _wrong_."

George itched his scalp. "We've felt different, sure, but I reckon that's because we're goofballs."

"Is it something like that?" asked Fred.

Aralynn sighed. "No."

"Maybe it's just because you're unique," offered George.

Aralynn puffed. " _Unique_? Don't make me laugh."

"Well, we'd want to make you laugh," Fred told her.

George added, "but only if it was from humor."

Fred wrapped an arm around his sister and pulled her close. "In any case, you _are_ unique, Gingerbread Head. You're probably the kindest person that we know. You're always fighting for people to be treated equally."

The other twin nodded. "You refuse to put up with any lousy sod trying to bully you."

"You're wicked sharp," Fred told her. "You're just having a hard time right now."

"Don't forget that you've got a brutal left-hook," laughed George. "C'mon, Ara. Feel better. It's going to get easier."

The boys stood, kissed her atop the head, and shuffled back to harassing Percy. Aralynn watched them go, feeling a little lighter than she had before. She exhaled slowly, smiling softly. Fred and George always knew how to make her feel at least a _little_ better.

Hedwig flew from Aralynn's shoulder and headed back to the owlery. Amete followed suit. Once the owls disappeared from sight, Aralynn stood and went over to the boys. Her nose and cheeks were scarlet. "Let's go inside. It's freezing out here, and supper will be starting soon."

The waddled inside, allowing the warmth from the castle to melt away the layers of frost that had developed after hours spent in the frigid weather. They discarded their outdoor attire and headed into the Great Hall. They sat at the Gryffindor table, and were soon joined by Fred, George, and Percy. Moments later, the feast appeared before them.

Ron was double-fisting legs of roast chicken. Fred and George were flicking cherry tomatoes at each other. Percy was trying his best to avoid the crossfire. Harry was laughing and seemed to be enjoying himself the most. He had earlier explained that this was the best Christmas he had ever experienced. He told them about all of the horrible things his aunt and uncle would do. They, admittedly, felt bad for him. Though, it only further fueled their desire to give him the best Christmas experience possible. Fred and George even took to flicking tomatoes at Harry, as well.

Through mouthfuls of chicken, Ron asked Harry what his plan was for visiting the restricted section of the library. Harry proceeded to tell him that he would simply sneak out after curfew with the invisibility cloak on, bypass the rope closing off the section, and search through the books for any sign of Nicolas Flamel's name. Afterward, Ron felt it was such a simple plan that he felt foolish for asking.

During the dinner, Fred and George thought up alternate personas for themselves named 'Gred and Forge.' Percy took to frequently reminding them how annoying they were. They simply took the comments in stride and reacted to them as though they were compliments.

Once their bellies were full and their eyes were heavy, they sauntered back to the Common Room, to their dormitories, and straight into their beds. Aralynn, having been behind the group, stayed back in the Common Room unnoticed. She sat on the couch and waited for Harry to come down when he figured the time was right for his adventure to the library.

Harry came down at about midnight. He had the cloak draped over his arm and was passing through the Common Room when he jumped nearly five feet in the air. He hadn't expected to see Aralynn there—let alone Aralynn sitting perfectly still and silent on one of the couches. He pressed his palm over his palpitating heart.

"Ara, you scared me half to death!"

Aralynn eyed him. "Sorry about that. Wasn't my intention."

He shook his head. "What are you doing awake? Didn't you go to your dormitory?"

"I didn't," she answered. "I've been down here the whole time."

" _Why_?"

"I was waiting for you. I wanted to make sure that you came and went alright."

Harry shifted. "You don't have to wait up for me."

Aralynn shrugged. "Might as well."

"Well, I'll be back," he told her. "Hopefully before one. If I'm not back by then… I dunno. Assume I've been expelled."

Aralynn raised an eyebrow. "I'll do that."

Harry waved to her, threw the cloak over his body, and left the Common Room.

While waiting for Harry, Aralynn paced around the room; doing the best that she could to distract herself. The questions were back again, probing her brain without rest. She wanted them to go away, but she knew that the only way that would happen was if she finally had answers. She didn't suspect she would be getting those anytime soon. She spent time cycling between pacing the room and sitting on the couch when her legs grew tired. At some point, she must have fallen asleep when she was resting her legs. The same dream she had been having on and off came again. The flash of blinding green light; the woman screaming, but this time, more.

Underneath the screaming, very quietly, she could hear the same woman whispering something. It grew louder, but still a whisper, until she could hear it.

" _You are so loved_."

A slam sounded. Aralynn lurched awake. Harry was taking off the invisibility cloak. The clock read that it was half past two o'clock. The girl sat upright. "Where in the bloody hell have you _been_!?"

Harry was surprised to see that she was still there. "I got caught up."

"Doing _what_?"

Harry bit his lip. "I found this mirror," he explained. "I saw my parents in it."

Aralynn stared at him. "Your parents?"

"They were standing behind me. Well, my whole family was. Family that I never knew, of course. Family that I'll never know. I want to show Ron… and you, of course."

 _Perhaps the mirror shows what we need to see_ , Aralynn thought.

"I'm gonna go to bed," she told him. "Go on and get Ron, though."

Aralynn followed the staircase to the girls' dormitory. She lingered in the hall, sitting on the top stair, and listened while Harry came down with Ron—listened while there was silence—and listened when the boys came back. Once she heard snoring from their dorm, she snuck up the stairs (which, oddly enough, unlike the girls', weren't enchanted to disallow passage), and tiptoed into Harry and Ron's dormitory. They were both sound asleep. Ron was snoring louder than the mountain troll had grunted.

She moved stealthily to Harry's trunk, opened it, and pulled the invisibility cloak from it. She mouthed a silent apology to the sleeping boy. She exited the room, put the cloak on, and went bolting through the corridors. She followed the path Harry had told Ron where the mirror was located. She closed the door to the empty classroom behind her. She pulled the cloak off of her body and crept up to the mirror.

It was large and quite old. It had large, clawed feet and golden trim. There was something written along the trim of the mirror that Aralynn couldn't read. She sucked a deep breath into her lungs and held it.

 _This is it_ , she thought. _The moment of truth_.

Aralynn stepped forward, properly before the mirror. She looked in at her reflection, but for a moment, saw nothing else. She was frowning when she saw shapes appearing in the mirror. Once they had fully formed, Aralynn studied them. They were outlines. Shapes of two people standing behind her, and someone a bit taller than her standing beside her.

They had no faces—no features. They were mere blank shadows standing in the mirror with her. The mirror was not an answer for her. It was but another question.

Aralynn's knees buckled beneath her. She collapsed. The girl leaned forward, pressing her forehead into the cold stone floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage. She smacked the floor with her hands several times, beginning to heave. Booming, heavy sobs were escaping her now. She couldn't make them stop.

She stood and looked into the mirror again. The outlines reappeared. Instead, she focused on her reddening face, and the tears that poured onto her cheeks. She smacked the mirror's glass. "WHO ARE YOU?" she screamed so desperately that her throat went raw.

She balled her hair in her hands.

" _Who am I_?"


End file.
